Friends
by CailinNollaig
Summary: They're like the friends from that show, except hotter. And better. At least if you ask Puck or Santana. /Finchel, St. Berry, Quick, Quam, Klaine, Blaintana, Britanna, Bartie, Tike, etc. AU./
1. The One With Two Camps

Prologue: The One With The Two Camps.

_i. Can you lie next to her, and confess your love?_

September 2010.

It's the rehearsal dinner, but all he can think about is _her._ By all means, he should be focused on the speeches, the food, the surrounding company – _anything. _But no, instead, he has this lovely, gorgeous woman in his view and can't stop looking at her.

She catches him a few times. He averts his gaze rapidly each time, but he's sure she smiles a little, despite everything. Kurt is to his left, chin resting on his fist as he gazes at the beautiful bride-to-be. He has to admit, she is looking amazing – how can anyone deny that? She always does though, he concedes silently. His eyes flicker to Kurt again, and he doesn't think that the man is as focused on the dinner as he would like to seem. His eyes are glazed over and he sighs every few moments.

No matter. Finn glances down at the place placed in front of him, impressed even if he doesn't want to be. He's not supposed to want to be here. Or maybe he _is _supposed to want to be here? Oh, Finn's lost track at this point of all he's supposed to be doing. Nothing feels right... In all honesty, he just wants to leave before he feels further suffocated. A glance around at his friends, who are scattered around the room, provides him with confirmation that none of them want to be here.

Part of him feels sorry for the pending wife and husband to be, but most of him couldn't care less. Which is certainly something for Finn to say, as he's usually very conscientious of people's feelings. _She_ says it's part of why she loves him.

Or why she used to love him. Whatever.

(He cares so much that it hurts to think about.)

Finn is determined not to glance at her again however, and if he does bump into her or talk to her, it's going to be entirely nonchalant. He begins to eat his dinner, and notices that Kurt is still staring into space. Finn nudges him lightly,

"Kurt, wake up. Don't embarass me."

The younger man rolls his eyes, "Like you care. Don't they look so happy?"

Finn doesn't even look at the couple. "No. Not really."

Kurt only tsks and turns to his meal, "Everyone needs to stop acting as if we're at a funeral. We're good at this – pretending all is okay." He then adds hastily, "Because everything is okay."

Finn can remember the last time he was at a rehearsal dinner, and the reminder sends a pang to his heart. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't feel right here, and on top of that, it drags up memories he had laid to rest. A frown must have been on his face, because Kurt puts a hand on his arm, "It's okay to remember."

He shakes off his hand, "I'm fine." Finn mumbles quieter then, "It was a long time ago."

"It still happened. Anyway, is that really what's going on here, Finn?"

Silence between them as Finn thinks hard about answering. People around him continue to laugh and converse, oblivious to the two and their conversation. He can distantly hear Quinn's tinkling laughter, Rachel's chuckle and Santana's biting wit on a poor, unsuspecting victim.

Kurt sighs, "All this angst is killing me. Oh, finally – excuse me? Could I have a glass of your best champagne. Put it on the couples bill." He smiles widely.

"Why are you punishing them?" Finn asks in interest.

"Oh, Finn, that's not punishing. That's fun." He pats his hand patronisingly. "You failed to answer my question, but it doesn't matter. When my champagne returns I'm off to find someone happy to talk to."

"Thanks. And you mean you're off to get drunk. Don't pretend you're any happier right now."

He holds himself and replies haughtily, "I've no idea what you're talking about, my dear brother. Now, I'll return later when you're a little more pleasant."

Finn exclaims dryly, "Wow, thanks." And shovels a fork of chicken into his mouth as his brother gets his drink and leaves. Left alone, he wonders who he should go talk to or what he should do. He could leave. He doesn't want to hurt her feelings though...

His thoughts are answered for him as Puck grabs Kurt's seat and falls into it, a drink in either hand. Finn reaches for one, but his friend pulls it back, frowning, "Get your own, man. I need these to survive the night."

"Just grow some balls." He replies, irritated. He's sick of Puck's dilemma. It's rare that he's so crass out of the two of them, but not entirely out of character. When Finn gets angry or annoyed, it's not a safe place for anyone.

"Me? I was wondering if I should bring you a box of tissues, you look like you're about to cry all night."

"You're an asshole."

"I've been told." He replies wryly, looking anything but happy. His eyes are roaming around the room constantly, never stopping for a second as they pursue a certain person. She's not in the room anymore though and so Puck looks back at him, "I hate this shit."

Finn contemplates what he's saying for a moment. "Shouldn't we be happy for her? Pretend, at the very least? To my knowledge, she's always been there for us..."

"Shouldn't we be happy for her," Puck mimicks in a tone that is definitely not Finn's. He shoots him a dirty look, and spits a simple, "No." Silence that Finn has become familiar with tonight reigns again, but as usual between the two friends, it's not uncomfortable. Puck pats him on the back then, "Don't jump ship on me now, Hudson."

He doesn't bother with replying and instead his eyes find her again. She's mingling away, in her element, a bright smile painted on her face. He can't help but admire her politeness and how damn sophisticated she can be... Some may argue, but he thinks she's highly sophisticated.

Puck's eyes are also pointedly directed. Finn knows he always thought it would be them, even if the man proclaims forever being a bacheleor – Puck always wanted it with her. Finn can't find it in him to empathise. Not because he doesn't feel sorry for his friend, or think that his friend is entitled to feel as he does or right in feeling that way, but simply because he's given so much emotion already to his own problems that Finn feels he can't give anymore. He's been bled dry.

Seeing her mingle reminds Finn that they are being awfully rude (deep down, he knows that is both their intentions. For what reasons he isn't sure.) and nods to Puck, "Let's go find the others. Not look completely anti-social."

He approaches Santana hesitantly, but Puck takes a completely different route and slaps her on the bum, "Showing enough leg there, Lopez?"

"Quit it, Puckerman. I'm in no mood for you. I'm _happy. _See? This is what it looks like." She tells him, pointing to her serene smile.

He scoffs, "Bullshit. Where's Brittany, San? Haven't seen her since you-"

"Fuck you, Noah." She spits.

Finn knows it's his time to intervene, "Look, guys, there's no need for all this-"

"Shut up, Finn." It's said in unison, and he holds his hands up in defence quickly. It only takes a second for all of them to laugh. As the night wears on, and the drinks keep coming, he begins to feel relaxed. In the company of Puck and Santana especially, he can easily pretend that they're somewhere else. He's not too sure that they feel he same as him, but Finn doesn't really care anymore. Santana is making a catty remark about the groom's sister and her outfit when Mike approaches, the only one of his friends with a genuine smile on his face, "Hey guys, haven't seen you all night!"

"Well, that wouldn't be hard seeing as you're at the other camp." Santana tells him, looking displeased.

"The other camp?" He repeats slowly in confusion, glancing at the two men for help. Before either of them can give him that though, Santana breezes ahead.

"The other camp. Are you slow now? We've clearly split into two camps here, why else would there be three of us over this side and four of you over that side? Only one missing is the bride and golly gosh, wonder which one she'd pick..."

Mike's eyes flicker between them all, pity radiating as he tells them, "Don't be bitter guys."

Santana swishes her wine around in her glass dangerously, "Go back to your girlfriend." It's not said pleasantly, and Finn wonders what Mike did to warrant this treatment. He certainly has no bone to pick with Mike and doesn't want to create drama between them (though he now has an insatiable need to know what happened between Santana and him.).

"Drink later?" He asks his friend, letting it be known that they have no problem between them.

Mike pauses, as if thinking about whether or not to say yes – which baffles Finn – and then nods. "Sure."

Puck only nods in agreement, and as Mike walks away, Santana curses in Spanish, "You two are useless. Not a brain between you – traitors. I could have used some morale support!"

He shrugs, "I've no beef with Mike."

She throws her hands up in the air, spilling wine on the ground but ignoring it. "Unbelievable."

Puck winks at her, "Thanks babe." Some things never change.

* * *

It's late. Finn knows for a fact that rehersal dinners are not supposed to go on this long, but they've always been up for a party and a few drinks. It's good that there's still quite a few people left though, because he doesn't think he has the courage to talk to the 'other camp'. Kurt came back to him a while ago complaining about something or other (Finn wasn't listening) and then left again.

There's an atmosphere that's not supposed to be there at a wedding rehearsal. Friends are supposed to laugh and rejoice, regaling great tales of their friends escapades before they settled down and poking fun at whatever they can. They were supposed to all be sitting together, happy and content, wishing the bride and groom their genuine desires of a happy life for them. Finn just can't get on board with all of it though, and it seems none of his other friends can either. He wants to be more supportive, but all it stands for, all he has and had to give up is simply too much. He has anger; too much anger and it needs to be exercised.

There's an anger among all of them. A resentment, a bitterness that he's worried won't be resolved – he's sure he's not going to be the one to resolve things again. He hasn't got in him, but then, who does? Maybe Finn has to take one for the team again. These people are his best friends, and have been for many years now.

Part of him is ashamed of how he's acting. His friends are getting married, and yet, he can't even muster up a facade of approval or happiness. He should be putting their happiness first but it seems an impossible task. There's too much telling him to go the other way, too much rebelling against everything that couple stands for and everything that has been left broken in their wake. (It's not quite through fault of their own, but that doesn't matter, because Finn associates the trouble with them and out of his sheer, stupid stubbornness refuses to back down. It's not hard with the support he gets from Puck.)

He's sitting at the bar alone, wondering when he lost everyone, when one of his friends approach him.

Or, at least, Finn thought they were approaching him. However, it's clear that he's not in their plans as they get up onto the counter and tap their glass loudly. Finn's eyes widen, and he tugs on their leg urgently, "What are you doing?" He whispers frantically.

A hand swats him away. He'll never forget what happens next. Standing straight, chin held high, they begin to speak. They wobble slightly on the narrow counter, and he's worried they'll fall. They've had a few too many, but despite that, his friends mouth opens and with a voice clear, loud and percise it rings out in the room, "This wedding, is a _sham._"

Finn sinks back against his chair. Ok, so he wasn't expecting that.

(Sadly, most things do change.)

* * *

_Alritey, so this is my new saga. A bit of an epic, if you will. I've over 80 pages written already and truly enjoy writing it so no chance of abandonment! And updates will obviously be quick seeing as I've so much written already._

_The story will start about a year before this – I'll have better idea when posting the next chapter later today - and yes, it is based around the tv show Friends. However, unlike many other stories based on it, mine will not follow the storylines of Friends and stick to certain couples. Most ships will have moments, and I hope to keep you guessing on endgame ships. I've decided on some of them, but not all! There's a lot of characters to juggle, too: eight.. I hope this isn't a problem for you, I think I've handled it well, and really hope you enjoy it. There's a poll on my page for those of you who would like a say in the endgame couples._

_Don't own glee, friends or Mumford and Sons "White Blank page." Yeah, I'll have two chapter titles, one from alike friends, and then one as a lyric. The lyric is just for funsies, the real chapter title and one ill refer to is the friends one._

_All good?_

_Oh, and how Finn is the centre here? That rotates all the time and he is most definitely not the main characters. They're all main characters, though due to inevitable favouritism, some may get more storyline than others. I'm pretty sure it's mostly balanced though!_

_Any questions, feel free to ask. (No, ANs wont usually be this long.. haha) Reviews are MUCH LOVED :D _

_Thanks,_

_xCNx._


	2. The One With Charades

The One With Charades.

September 2009.

_ii. Someone to face the day with, to make it through the rest with, someone I'll always laugh with._

If one glances across the sitting room, they would see a mirage of confused and puzzled expressions on all of the people. Now, it isn't a huge mystery or something overly important that has got the occupants so bewildered, but a simple game of charades.

A tall, pretty, slender woman with long blonde hair stands at the top of the room. She's jumping around the room theatrically, throwing her arms about and kicking her legs in all directions. There's a look of expectancy on her face as she gazes at each of her friends faces.

A man with an obviously mature Mohawk decides to take one for the team at this point and speaks up, "Er, Brit... I think I speak for everyone here when I say I have absolutely no idea of what you're doing."

Brittany sighs and frowns for a moment, then puts more vigour into her jumping. Had she been doing something else, perhaps the height she could reach would be impressive, but all of her movements so far failed to impress those with her. It's at this point that a short, tanned woman with an aura of self-esteem and self-worth stands up and clears her throat loudly, "Yes, your technique is not quite right, Brittany. That's okay though.. we've only been playing this a couple of years now, and you know, it can be quite a complicated game if one doesn't get the right movie to act. Now, I know what you're all thinking – Rachel, your performances are always spectacularly accurate. But that's due to my background and experience in stage, not everyone should be so lu—"

"Can it, manhands." A striking latina speaks up, rolling her eyes. Her fit form always has men queuing up at the door; her brown hair and brown eyes hypnotising them into a false sense of security. This would be all before she used and abused them, of course. Her eyes turn instantly soft – as they so rarely do, but more often around the blonde jumping vicariously - "I think we give up, Brit. What is it?"

She sighs heavily and falls into the free arm chair, "Up. I don't know how you didn't get it... Sometimes, I wonder if I actually am smarter than you guys."

There's a silence in which no one quite knows what to say. It's at this point that one should know who is exactly sitting in the room. It's a quaint living room that has a nice view of the kitchen if you glance behind. Located in an apartment in Manhattan, it has a wonderful view of the city and big enough space for a large couch and two armchairs. A moderately sized tv graces the top of the room, and judging by the worn buttons along the bottom, it's safe to assume that the television is used quite frequently.

There's a door either side of the tv, and one more door beside the one on the right. Three bedrooms for the four occupants of the house; Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez. Three of which are currently sitting in the living room, enjoying their Friday night with their closest friends. Rachel Berry is the outspoken, vivacious brunette with enough ambition to fuel the world. She can at times come across overbearing and obsessive and has a compulsive need for things to be perfect, but also has a kind heart which is recognised by her friends. (It also is sometimes required to be remembered by her friends when she is at her worst.)

Rachel decides to break the silence (she's never been fond of silence, for reasons she never wants to explore), "Well. Maybe we should just move onto something else then.."

A man of Asian ethnicity speaks then, a look of dread on his face, "Oh no... Give us one week reprise Rach, please?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "Mike, I don't understand why you don't like our sessions. It's fun to let go, and you need it more than anyone." He doesn't seem surprised by her response, and just resigns himself to silence. He sits in between Brittany and the man with the Mohawk. This man is more commonly known simply as 'Puck'. Full name being Noah Puckerman, he's a self-proclaimed 'sex shark' with a penchant for chatting up women and carrying a conversation with almost anyone. He's awful at just about anything that doesn't involve those things and is completely unabashed about it; he's confident in himself, and isn't afraid to flaunt his flirtatious side and his best features. He often says what's on his mind regardless of consequences, not unlike Rachel. He occupies the apartment across the hall with two of his friends, Finn and Kurt.

Finn sits on the other side of Mike on the remaining arm chair, is tall and lanky with a goofy smile that can make the right girls swoon. 'If you're into that type of thing' Puck puts it. Any woman with an attraction to the more clumsy, awkward and adorably goofy men hit it off with Finn. Unable to dance, constantly making a fool of himself with women and finding amusement in the most simple of things, Finn is the very definition of the goofy guy.

Kurt is absent from the gangs get together on this particular night, due to a gruelling college assignment. Being significantly younger than the others, he often has to sit out certain nights and events due to college commitments. The reason he originally became friends with them was due to being Finn's step-brother, but it soon became real friendship as it is between the others. Kurt's life could be summed up in fashion, music and boys, really. At this time in his life, they are his main topics of conversation.

"One song could be bearable." Finn responds, looking apprehensive. Everyone except for Mike enjoys their sessions, but sometimes Rachel gets a little carried away. Finn never minds though; he had never been able to be annoyed for long with her.

She beams at him, and he's taken aback for a moment by the beauty that's sitting across from him on her armchair. He smiles back automatically, and tries to put the fluttering in his heart down to indigestion. He had a big dinner. "Excellent! You speak sense, Finn. Anyone want to have a go, or shall I –"

It's at that moment that the door to the apartment is swung open, and in walks the beauty that is Quinn Fabray. Blonde, slim with stunning features that frequently make people stop and comment, she enraptures most men. Her hazel eyes have the same effect as Santana's deep brown ones, and have also been described as hypnotic. Again similar to Santana though, she keeps men at arms length. Perhaps not as cruelly or harshly as Santana or in any way similar, but she doesn't get too involved for too long. Recent relationships have all ended upon the six month mark. Why isn't important to her, and anyone who asks receives a curt answer.

What Quinn Fabray has in beauty is measured up in unadulterated bitchiness. She, of course, couldn't take the title of supreme bitch from Santana, but she uses it in a more controlling way. It ensures that in her workplace, no one speaks out of line to her, despite the fact that she isn't a manager or boss. Albeit, she's loyal and can be compassionate and caring. She pretends to be tough and unbreakable, but secretly, she knows she's more weak than anyone quite realises. Her friends are the most important thing in the world to her, but they all know it and appreciate it. They all value each other, it does work both ways.

She's a little forgetful, an awful cook and a sucker for romantic comedies, even though she claims they're cheesy.

Quinn throws her keys down on the counter angrily and takes a wine glass out of one of the presses. Without sparing a glance to her on looking friends, she then proceeds to retrieve an opened bottle of wine from the fridge and pour herself a glass. "You can all stop staring."

Puck laughs, "Babe, you look like you could do with some Puckzilla time,"

She snorts, "In your dreams."

"How bad was it, Q?" Santana smirks from her spot on the floor. She's currently leaning against the armchair Rachel is sitting on, allowing the girl to play with her hair (although she really does love when people play with her hair, it's the one of the few times she feels truly relaxed).

Quinn's eyes dart to her for a minute before returning to her drink, and she leans back against the counter of the kitchen. She seems to be contemplating going into detail. Quinn looks at Finn then, "Worse than Hairy Harriet."

His eyes widen, "That's impossible!" An involuntary shudder passes through his body as he remembers his date with the infamous hairy Harriet. Her name had actually been Lisa, but Santana had coined Hairy Harriet and it stuck instantly. The essence of the name came from the fact that she well – well, she never shaved. When he inquired, because he simply had to, she had informed him about the conspiracy of waxing and razors. He had wanted to climb out the bathroom window, but it had been a while since he had sex, and so the two anatomy's Finn used to think battled it out for the next hour until finally, Finn's brain finally won. It's a rare occasion, but he still feels it was the right call.

"He didn't have any hair?" Brittany asks, scandalized. She's the slowest on the uptake of the group, and more often than not, conversations fly straight over her head or are interpreted in the oddest of ways. From time to time, she hits the nail on the head though with her uncomplicated view of life.

Quinn looks reluctant to go on, "No... he had hair. But he didn't shower or brush his teeth. He asked me several times what the smell was, and insisted _I _was the one smelling odd!"

Several of them look ready to gag, and then Puck sniggers, "Well, not everyone can be as manly and sexy as us men right here. You ladies don't really have to look any further.. If _we _would have you that is."

Finn, slightly irritated, replies, "You've had 'relations' with just about every girl in the room, Puck."

He waves him away, "Not important..."

"Where did you find such a horrendous creature, Quinn? I mean, honestly, you'd have to really go to the depths of the earth to pick out such an outrageous specimen. I don't understand a need to neglect personal hygiene, it's just an abomination."

Quinn's expression becomes serious again, and her eyes narrow, "That's the thing.." she begins to walk forward, swishing her wine around in her glass. "It's not the man whose number I got. Someone must have changed the digits around in my phone or _something.._ So own up. Now."

Everyone automatically looks to Puck, who holds his hands up defensively, "It wasn't me! But kudos to whoever did." He laughs, and Quinn throws him another one of her looks. He shrugs innocently, "It's a pretty funny gig."

Her eyes roam around the room, until finally, they land on Finn. He's shifting uncomfortably in his seat with his eyes constantly moving from area to area, but never landing on her. "Finn?" She asks, genuinely disappointed. "God, grow up."

Mike's eyebrows shoot up and he pats him on the back, "Didn't think you had it in you, man."

Quinn looks at Mike's hand at back to Mike, and back to Finn, "This doesn't warrant a pat on the back, Mike!" Her voice becomes high-pitched and everyone winces.

"Get ready for the volcano..." Puck whispers quietly, but so Finn can hear.

"It was just a prank! Puck said I'd never be able to pull off one that was even half-way decent after he did that legendary one to Santana of locking her out in her underwear! And that time ages ago when he locked you _all _out in your underwear! I wanted to prove him wrong – and come on, the real guy was a douche anyway. Me and Mike were with you at the bar when you met him, and both agree he is a_douche –"_

Mike cuts in here, indignant, "Don't bring me into this! I never endorse these stupid pranks you two insist on..."

Puck rolls his eyes, "That's cause you're boring, Mike." He stands then, throws an arm over Quinn's shoulder and smiles, "well Q, looks like it all worked out for the best then, eh? You're still hot and single, Finn proved he has balls after all, and you avoided another tool."

"Sometimes – actually, most of the time – I wonder why the hell I'm friends with you toolbags." Santana announces, unabashed by her words.

* * *

"Dude, don't be a pussy, just drink the damn thing." Finn groans upon hearing his friends words and eyes the drink worriedly, wondering whether his health is seriously at risk.

"Why don't _you_?" It suddenly hits him, and he's smirking widely. Puck scoffs, claiming to have proven how manly he is on many occasions.

"I've drank loads of stuff like this, and you know it. C'mon, it's just a few secret ingredients... it won't kill you. Well, not in that quantity."

Finn looks at him suspiciously again, "there's no absinthe in this one, is there?"

Puck looks to be thinking deeply about this, and then shakes his head, "Nah, not this time. Where's Shirley this morning anyway? He should be downing this stuff to buff up." He is, of course, referring to Finn's step-brother, Kurt.

He finally pushes the drink away, grateful for the change in subject, "I don't think he _wants _to buff up. He's a bit feminine if you didn't notice.."

"Whatever. Don't have to tell me twice, his girly shit is all over the bathroom."

Finn wants to roll his eyes at Puck's antics, but knows that he does agree with him. He sits back against his chair, finally able to relax again without the threat of the deadly concoction. (Puck seems to be distracted by something for the moment – what, Finn isn't sure. He has his ideas though.) Their apartment is a little smaller than the girls, for reasons they're not quite sure of. They have better views from their bedrooms but other than that, the girls apartment is pretty much better in most ways and so they usually end up there. There's an open door policy between the two houses. Probably not smart, but they're confident in their security for foolish reasons. Mike lives two doors down from Finn, Puck and Kurt and although he doesn't maintain the same policy with his own door, he frequently takes advantage of theirs. (He's a little more logical and wise than the rest of them, a fact that is often laughed over.)

Finn glances around the spotless apartment, and realises that Kurt must have cleaned it again when they were asleep this morning. He nudges Puck, "Kurt cleaned again."

He groans, "I wish he'd stop doing that. It replaces my manly smell with flowers," His nose scrunches at the idea, as if it's a foul smell that he finds repugnant.

"You are such a douche. Anyway, you in work later?" He asks, rising from his seat to retrieve something to quell the hunger rumbling away in his stomach. Surveying his nearly empty fridge, Finn decides he had better head over to the girls instead. They always have something in their fridge.

Puck shakes his head, "Got the night off. Been a while since I got to do my thing on a Saturday, y'know? In tomorrow night though."

Finn stands facing Puck as the other man sits at the breakfast counter, "Sometimes I envy you and your job, but then I remember I have all summer off and many other weeks during the year, and I realise my job is so much better." He smiles triumphantly and turns to leave the room.

"Yeah, 'cause I'd much rather spend all day with snot-nosed kids than all night with hot chicks at a bar." Finn chooses wisely to ignore that comment, and walks across the hall to see what delicious meal could be hiding away in the girls fridge.

Puck lets him go, strangely unwilling to fight him further on the matter. He knows he'd hate minding little kids, anyway, and that is all that matters. There's a grand total of two kids he can stand in the whole world – and he isn't even sure if his sister still counts as a kid. To him at least, she'll always be a kid. Probably to his mother, too. He's not sure the poor girl will ever be able to leave Lima.

Albeit, back in the day, Puck thought he wouldn't be leaving Lima either. Now? He's living the life in New York. Just a small town boy. Undoubtedly, he struggled a lot when he first arrived. Finn settled much quickly due to a proper career, but Puck had never settled down or started a career and so he floundered a little at first. He went from job to job for years, busking on the side with his trusty guitar, until he fell upon a job as a bartender in a busy club downtown. He's not sure if it'll be permanent, but for now, he's happy with it. It pays the bills, which is more than he's been able to do in the past. There could be an oppurtunity to perform in a few weeks too, which he would love. (Though he'll deny it if asked, he loves the sessions with his friends on Friday nights and the girls apartment. Admitting that would be like a defeat to Rachel, so usually he makes a groan and _then_ pulls out the guitar.)

He's pulled from his thoughts as a skinny, feminine and strikingly pale boy enters the apartment in a fluster. Puck raises his eyebrows at the spectacle, and though he was tempted to laugh at first, feels this strange sense of _worry_, which Puck very rarely gets. Unless we're talking football or something important like that.

Kurt's scarf has fallen down so that it's only hanging onto his neck by the very end, his jacket has fallen to his elbows and his hair (that is usually impressively immaculate) is in disarray. What worries Puck most though, is the glitter of tears he can see in the young boys eyes. Puck hates tears – he'd like to think more than most men (it reminds him too much of the past) but he doesn't run this time because genuine concern keeps him rooted. He see's this kid as a little brother, too, no matter how much he jokes around.

He isn't about to break tradition though. "Betty, what's going on?" Puck stands and walks around to the boy, whose eyes widen, as if he's only just realising the other mans presence.

Kurt sniffs disdainfully, straightens himself and shakes his head, "It doesn't matter. J-Just some immature and ignorant people," He spits out, starting out calm but allowing his temper to take over towards the end. Puck simply tilts his head for him to go on, and Kurt does as he fixes his clothes. He's seemingly gathering himself. "Some yob shouted some things at me on the underground and then threw some things at me. It doesn't matter. I'm better than he'll ever be and will have more money when I'm older than social welfare will ever give him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go exfoliate my skin after having such filthy things thrown at it."

He begins to walk away, and as he reaches the bathroom door, he finishes quietly, "I'll be done in about forty minutes."

Puck takes that as a hint to stay, that the kid wants company. He sighs and wonders why he's such a good person.

* * *

Santana and Quinn push their grocery trolley around slowly, checking each item carefully for ingredients and calories – because of Rachel and her annoying vegan habit – as they move along. No one wants to ever do the grocery shopping and this week, it happens to fall on Santana and Quinn. Rachel claimed it had been five weeks since they did it, and since neither Santana nor Quinn remember the last time they went food shopping, they agreed reluctantly. Besides, it gives them ample opportunity to gossip.

"Uh, no. Mike's abs are by far the best out of all of them." Santana states firmly, silently thinking that she's willing to bring up the fact she's seen all the boys bodies. Well, they had all been on holidays together – so she supposes Quinn has as well. Besides the point. (Santana hates being wrong, or even close to wrong.)

"I don't know.. he's been slacking a little lately." Quinn replies, picking up some chocolate spread. She holds it in her hand, and then glances guiltily at Santana, "Too bad?"

She shakes her head, "Nah, chocolate's good for the soul. Though don't wanna get fat again, Q."

The blonde simply ignores that comment, and continues with the conversation, "I'm sick of us all being single – I wanna' meet and grill a boyfriend or girlfriend."

Santana nods and shrugs a shoulder, "Preferably a girlfriend. Much more fun to torment."

Quinn nods in agreement, "I was thinking of setting Finn up with the Dragon Lady..."

The Latina gasps, a large smirk running across her face, "You wouldn't! That is priceless.. I say do it. Finnocence needs some sex soon, I think. The way he's looking at Rach lately makes me want to barf."

"You've got such a way with words, San. And she's not that bad; she said thank you to me today and _smiled. _She's constantly complaining about men and her love life, too. Finn is happy, she'll like that for ten minutes, get laid, and then dump him when she remembers that she loves misery." She pauses, "Of course, I've factored Finn's feelings into this. I plan on telling him she's an awful human being, but that she may put out."

Santana pouted, "Why you gotta' tell him about your boss' horrid side? It would have been so fun to see him arrive home after that one." She looks wistful and Quinn nudges her.

"It would be too cruel."

"This is where we differ, Barbie. You coming out tonight? Some wanky after last night?" Her smirk reappears again and Quinn groans.

"Don't remind me. But, yes, I am... God knows I can never 'just say no'." It isn't as if they go out every weekend, but ... most weekends. There are a few regular places they all went to, and then sometimes it's more spontaneous than that. Problem is, although Quinn loves it, there is usually some drama after nights out. Only when drink is involved (which it usually is) obviously; Rachel is a needy drunk who becomes incredibly touchy-feely; Santana becomes bitchier than usual, and then sluttier, too; Brittany strips and dances for money wherever they are – that one can get them into trouble; Finn gets horribly, disgustingly sick if he drinks too much and he's much more liable to it than the others... Not to mention he says the most stupid things when he's drunk; Puck's not much different, except louder and likes to think he's a rockstar; Kurt falls asleep and when he's awake, talks in French rapidly; Quinn talks a lot (non-stop) and can be emotional at times; finally, Mike is the most placid drunk – he simply talks more.

It's rare that all of them go out at the same time as at least one person tends to be busy as there are so many of them – if eight can be called many. Big occasions like birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries, holidays, etc are the ones that everyone goes out for. Quinn's not quite sure who'll make it out tonight. Santana and Puck always – unless he's working – Quinn this time, probably not Kurt as he's snowed under with college and work, Finn maybe if Puck can convince him (or if Rachel's going out), Rachel perhaps pending on how her day at work went, not Mike as he doesn't go out unless it is an occasion and not Brittany as she has a dance class tomorrow.

"There shouldn't be a desire to! May just end up being you, me and Puck. We're the funnest ones anyway. I think I'll be able to get Rach and Brit out, and then Finn will come. We've got a few then!"

Quinn smiles, "Lovely. A good night out is to be had then!"

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? They'd be much appreciated! I won't always be updating daily, but for the most part, I will until chapter 13. I may at times leave two days to allow it to get around, if that makes sense? Also, in case you haven't noticed, there will be rather strong language in this story. Probs should have gave that warning before! Don't forget the poll on my page for endgame ships. (Yes, I'm going to say this every chapter. haha) Yes, I have to disclaim Puck's names for Kurt as it's an idea from Scrubs with Cox-JD.

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, Friends or "I'll Be There For You" by the Rembrandts.

Thanks,

CN.


	3. The One In Which There's a Mess

Chapter Three: The One With The Mess

_iii. Throw away all your problems, 'cause right now it's party time._

It's a normal night by all means; Brittany is stripping in the corner of the club (the bouncers should have long ago put a stop to it, but it seems they're enjoying it just as much as everyone else), Santana is making her way through a long line of men, Quinn is dancing and singing loudly on the dance floor with Puck (it happens every time) and Finn is fumbling stupidly with a girl at the bar. He's even _less_ smooth when he's intoxicated, and that is definitely saying something.

Rachel couldn't be persuaded to come out, she has pressing engagements Sunday morning. Kurt had/has a lot of revision to, and Mike simply declined. The others always have fun, regardless of who was out.

Finn sighs heavily as the girl makes a feeble excuse about finding her friend and ditches him. His shoulders slump, and he promptly orders a shot of vodka. He doesn't understand how the others do it – even Mike is better with girls than him! Mike who barely goes to night clubs. It's a new low for Finn (Not really, this happens all the time, but he's feeling particularly self-pitying tonight).

Lights are flashing wildly, music is thumping vibrantly and people are milling past him all around. There's a thin layer of sweat lacing everyone's features, and though it should be disgusting, no one seems to care or to notice. Letting inhibitions go and talking to who you like is part of the rush, part of the excitement and anticipation that comes with a night out. Finn begins to feel his mood pick up again as a petit woman with short blonde hair – too short for his tastes usually, and he prefers brunette's these days – eyes him playfully. It's then that his epic eye stare with blonde girl is interrupted as Quinn and Puck join him on either side, both throwing an arm around him.

"What're you doing, Finnie?" Quinn questions, placing her hand on his face so that he has to look into those deep, hazel and mesmerising eyes of hers.

He takes the hand from his face and spins her around lightly, "Scoping,"

Puck nudges him, "Blondie over there wants a bit. Reminds me a bit too much of Daisy with that haircut, but sure we can't all nab babes."

Finn blanches, "She reminds you of Kurt? Ugh, thanks douchebag, there goes me and her."

"You know, it would come muuuch easier if you didn't try so hard." Quinn informs him, then collects her drink from the bar as Finn does his vodka shot. She gestures to him, "Want to sit down for a bit? I'm rather thirsty after all that! A ten minute break at most though."

Puck nods to them, "Imma go check out the talent. Let the ladies experience the Puckasauras perhaps... I'll find you guys later. Maybe." Both know that's code for 'if I don't get laid'. Despite his reputation, he's rather picky about who he takes home. That means they're all hot, not that it's rare he brings a girl home for sex. No, no – far from it. Finn has lost count of the times he's walked into his kitchen in just his underwear to find an incredibly hot blonde sitting at his breakfast counter with only Puck's t-shirt on.

He shudders. Far too many times.

Quinn nudges him, "Finn? You coming?"

They sit down on the couches at the side of the club, talking occasionally and laughing at others pathetic dancing. She comments amusedly about how that's how Finn looks when he dances, and he tells her she's no Beyonce on the floor. She looks offended for a moment, and straightens her posture.

"I actually get mistaken for Beyonce _quite _a lot, thank you very much!" She replies haughtily, and both laugh uproariously then. It's not very funny, but they've both drank too much and they're enjoying each others company immensely. As they always did. They're best friends, as everyone else is, and sometimes both Quinn and Finn forget this.

"Finn, I think you should be my wingman next time we go out!" She declares suddenly. As he's about to decline, Santana approaches them. She sits sullenly next to Quinn for a moment and they wait for her to speak. Before she does, she leans forward quickly and swipes Quinn's drink and downs it. Quinn begins to object, but it's gone before she gets a word out and she sits back in resignation.

"I can't find the right one. And I _need _someone tonight. You guys know I got my needs.."

Quinn wrinkles her nose, "Yeah, we know. I usually hear."

The latina smirks, "Aren't you lucky? Provided with something to jack off to. So go on, help me choose a poor sucker."

Finn abandons the conversation at this point, and returns to the bar to get another drink for himself and Quinn. He'll splurge a little tonight – but she's only getting one drink out of him. Really.

Meanwhile, Quinn scans the bar with an eagle eye. She narrows her eyes and squints critically at all possible prospects. Finally, she lands her hazel orbs on a young man with dark hair and a confident stance. Undeniably attractive, he has an undoubted aura of charisma – she can see that from her seat – and chats animatedly with those around him, as well as breaking into song every few moments. He seems pretty passionate and she just _knows _he'd be the same in the bedroom. Quinn has to stop herself from taking him, and points him out subtly to Santana. (That's a lie. She would have taken him easily if she honestly wanted it, but there's a little something off about him that she can't pin. Santana only wants him for one night; it's easier.)

The girl gets a feral look in her eyes, one that says she's about to go in for the kill, "I likey. Good choice, Q." She stands and straightens her posture. As she's about to leave, her eyes flicker to a certain corner and she hesitates before speaking, "You—you know the deal with Brit. Watch the creepers that are perving, yeah?"

There's a beat of silence, "Yeah. I know," It's said softly, but Santana still hears somehow and leaves to make her night worthwhile. Quinn wonders where Finn is with her drink.

She knows he went to get her another, because he's generally a poor sucker like that; Finnocence as Santana calls him. She tries to spot him at the bar, but fails miserably and decides that she should probably get up and dance again. Quinn enjoys it hugely as she feels _free. _There are few times in her life that she genuinely feels free, but every time she gets up in a club and just lets herself feel among those many other people doing the same, she can't help but feel liberated. When she's being checked out by a hot guy and knows she's in control, when she's eyed with jealousy by another attractive girl and has a surge of confidence, when she's so lost in the music that she loses her friends and ends up miles from where she started out; she's _free_.

"God, chicks in this place are dogs." Puck moans, slumping next to her.

She laughs, "You're just used to the high standards set by myself and Santana, babe."

He raises a brow, "Perhaps. So, wanna get a cab back to mine?" He winks then.

She rolls her eyes, "Oh, in your dreams, Noah."

He shrugs, "Sure is." They're joking, they both know that. It's routine for them; it's what they do. Their relationship had always worked like that – they flirt, they talk, they laugh. At the end of the day, they say goodnight and do it all again tomorrow. It's a comfort to know it's a constant in her life, if it's the only constant. He's also one of her best friends, but she and Puck never get sentimental as neither are inclined that way whatsoever. It's easier with Finn because he can be incredibly vocal about his feelings, especially after a few shots of whatever he happens to be drinking on a night.

"We both know you're not really the picky type, so just choose one." Quinn says then, which surprises him slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean? I have got standards, you know.." He looks at her imploringly and she makes the mistake of looking at him. Her gaze falters just a little, and she's brought back to the place she's been so many times before. It's never worth it.

She shifts. "I know. But look at that brunette, she's gorgeous."

"More of a blonde man, myself." There's a joke in there, and she laughs and rolls her eyes. She's glad to fall back into the normal routine.

"Of course you are. She _is _hot though?"

His eyes, which had been glued to her, trail away and towards the girl in question. She's shaking her body ferociously on the dancefloor to a beat that Quinn knows well, and the corners of Puck's mouth rise. "She's smokin'. I'm gonna' go work some Puck magic, I'll catch you later,"

He's gone then, and Quinn almost feels guilty for directing him to the girl. She feels sorry for her already.

He approaches her with a swagger that his practically owned by Puck, and surveys her in approval. The girl is not easily swayed and rolls her eyes, waving him off. Within two minutes of him sweet-talking into her ear, he leads her off the dance-floor hand-in-hand. Quinn smiles faintly, and decides that she should find Finn. He's been gone too long.

* * *

Morning rays filter through the crack in the curtains, heating her face nicely as she wakes. She smiles involuntarily as the warmth spreads throughout her body and she instinctively knows it's going to be a good day. Of course, there was little doubt that it could be any other kind of day, but she's comforted nonetheless. She has a long day ahead of her, but with the sun behind her, Rachel's quite confident – as she usually is – about herself and the outcome. Everything will be perfect.

Today is an important day. She's finally kicking off her show today – finally starting the process that had been calling to her for so long. It had been unreasonably difficult for her to get rights for the play she wanted, but she eventually settled on a more accessible, popular musical: Rent. It wouldn't be her first choice, but she figures it's a logical one. Today she's to audition and find her crew. It would be hard, she supposes, but she's well up for the job. She's been waiting for this day for far too long.

Despite looking dirt-poor with the struggle she sometimes has with rent, Rachel owns a small theatre not far from where she lives. Now, be far from it, she didn't pay or buy it herself, but is extremely grateful. She'd sell most of her possessions before her theatre to pay off rent.

She rolls out of bed and almost skips into the kitchen, excitement igniting her bones. She still needs a morning tea though, no morning would be complete without it. Except the moment she opens the door, Rachel is met with an unholy mess and cringes at the sight. Their living room is littered with crisps, wine glasses litter the coffee table – _with no coaster -_ , the phone is off the hook and on the ground, and there's an attempt at cleaning up glass in the corner. She wonders which of her glasses they broke this time.

Her fists clench in annoyance as her eyes wander to the kitchen and she spots the mess they left behind. Dishes are piled high and all kinds of cooking utensils lie about. Puck must have done his usual thing of deciding he's Gordon Ramsey after a night on the town. Anger and irritation builds in Rachel as she opens the press to retrieve a mug, only to find sugar and eggs in with the mugs. She gets her 'Born to be a Star' mug and slams the press door shut, and for a moment, she's afraid it'll come off the hinges.

It doesn't. She briefly wonders whether that would have eased her anger.

Rachel sets the kettle to boil and wanders over to the window overlooking New York. She pulls back the curtains gently, and is once again warmed at the sight of the glorious morning. How could she have let a mess ruin her mood? They would clean it by the time she got home. Well, they had better have it clean, or she would have to unleash her terror.

Rachel goes about making toast then, getting the toaster out of the press and cutlery out of the drawer. She may have accidentally (purposefully) made more noise than necessary, and Santana emerges angrily from her room.

"Rachel!" She says loudly to catch the girls attention, "Shut up." She sends her a scathing look, then pulls her skimpy robe around her tighter and returns to her room. Rachel sighs, realising that Brittany is meant to come with her today. She glances around the kitchen again and grimaces; it was a good night, perhaps too good for Brittany to be up this morning. Regardless, she made a commitment to Rachel, and now she has to honour it.

Rachel doesn't do broken promises.

After finishing her breakfast, she knocks on Santana and Brittany's door lightly. They share a room – Quinn, Rachel and Santana hadn't been meeting rent due to them all having rather pathetic jobs back then. Santana volunteered her room to share with someone since she was the last to move in, and because it is the biggest. Well, Rachel has an ensuite, but that's irrelevant. They found Brittany, and the two had hit it off immediately.

Santana opens the door open and there's an aura of coolness, "What?"

"Brittany?" Is all Rachel replies with. Santana motions to the scrunchie on the door, and Rachel raises her hand to her forehead, cursing herself for being so stupid.

"Apologies, Santana. I forgot we had that ... process ... in place. I'll just go get her now. " Brittany shares Quinn's double bed when Santana is entertaining, and vice versa.

She and Santana have a tumultuous relationship to say the least. They get along, of course, otherwise they wouldn't live together, but they have vastly different personalities that often cause them to bang heads. Rachel doesn't mind so much because at the end of the day, Santana is one of her best friends and no amount of bickering changes that. Just as the hungover woman is closing the door, Rachel says one last piece, "The place better be clean when I get back, you scarlet woman."

Santana laughs raspily, "Yeah, yeah. Good luck with today."

Rachel smiles, "Thanks," and turns on her heel to retrieve Brittany. Besides, she doesn't want to keep Santana from her company for too long. (She wants to avoid an awkward scenario in which Santana's 'date' decides to show Rachel his face. She hates morning after sex talk with the girls partners of any given night.)

* * *

A loud and impatient knock rouses Quinn from her slumber. It's strange, she thinks, how after a long period of time one can learn their friends knocks. Not that many of her friends knock – she wishes they knew the meaning of the word. She knows it's only a matter of time before the person on the other side of her door barges in, and as she knows who it is, Quinn's not overly concerned. He'll come sit on her bed, and they'll dissect the night. It's tradition as both of them are die-hard gossips who enjoy nothing more than picking apart people and events.

She blinks rapidly, waking herself up. The room is swimming in front of her and her head feels like it's about to go shooting off. Quinn takes a few deep breaths, and begins to feel both sensations lessen. It's then that the door swings open, and is shut too loudly behind him. She flinches.

"Haven't we been over the closing doors policy?" She groans, burying her head under her pillow.

"Oh, you'll live. Move over," she does as she is told, and Kurt places himself on the bed beside her. His eyes are eager for information, and he waits in anticipation for her to tell her story. "so? First off, any men, Fabray? Because, really, it's been a while for you... I'm beginning to wonder if you're going to get desperate and sleep with Puck or Finn."

She picks her head up from the pillow and glares at him briefly, "Yeah, that's exactly gonna' happen." Taking a moment of reprise, she pushes her hair behind her ears and turns to lie on her side then. "There wasn't much gossip, to be honest. No men for me, no... I was with either Finn or Puck all night. Looked after Brit for a bit. Of course, when we got home, all of us thought it'd be a fantastic idea to have a few drinks here," Quinn blanches at this point, "I spent a good hour looking after Finn then."

Kurt looks disgusted. "_Your _bathroom, not mine, right?"

She rolls her eyes, "As usual."

"Then I don't care for that detail, it's like any other night! Finn obviously didn't take anyone home then." Quinn shakes her head. "Surprise, surprise. You two shouldn't be allowed spend time together out, because you're just cockblockers."

"Kurt!"

"What? It's true." He sniffs disdainfully, "Puck certainly took something home. It's why I'm here so early."

"Surprise, surprise," She says sarcastically, mimicking his words. Kurt smiles lightly, and she goes on, "Yeah, I pointed her out to him. He was rather hopeless last night for some reason.. Claiming there was no one worth the time until I pointed her out. Did you see her? She's hot, have to say."

"Passable," He replies lightly, "Nothing like you, my darling. So Puck is the only one to score once again.."

She smirks, "Not so fast there – what about Santana? I know, I know, it's almost a given that she gets someone but guess what? _He's still here._" She whispers the last part dramatically, and Kurt gasps.

"What? Someone made it past the eight o'clock mark? How do you know?"

"Rachel told me when she came in to get Brittany." Quinn pauses, "I pointed him out to her, too. I'm such a good friend."

"Too good." Kurt pats her hand, but she feels it's somewhat sarcastic and raises a brow. "Find me someone now!"

"Next time we're out, consider it done." Silence falls over them as both stew in their thoughts. Quinn knows Kurt regrets not going out, but it's probably for the best that he didn't. God knows she's paying for it with the hammer against her head. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and wants to sigh. She always feels that it's incredibly unfair how hard it is for Kurt. Being gay, his choice is extremely limited when they go out. They only time they go to a gay bar is when he's particularly whiny about it, and even then, it's a very, very rare occasion. She tries to help him out by spotting gay men but it's always a hard task. She tells him softly, "We'll find someone next time,"

"I'm starting to think it's too much to ask," He chuckles, but it's void of any humour. Quinn puts her hand over his and shakes her head, but says nothing. He averts his eyes and coughs lightly. "I had a little incident yesterday coming home from college – I was at the library – and Puck was surprisingly helpful."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Woah, woah, back up. What do you mean 'incident'?" He fails to reply for a moment, and she probes him, "Kurt? What happened?" Her tone is demanding now, and he decides to answer her for fear that Queen Bitch Quinn will appear.

"This miscreant on the underground said some things, threw some things. I'm fine. My skin survived the collision and that's all that's important."

"Did your heart?" He blinks at her, because Quinn never speaks like that. She purposefully avoids anything sentimental, mushy or in anyway related to the heart.

He ignores that though and shrugs, "Does it matter? Anyway, the results were that I remember now how many homophobic people there are – but _also, _I remembered what a good friend Puck can be. Now, don't get me wrong, he was quite an idiot and helpless most of the time, but that was comforting. At least he was trying."

She looks a little confused. "I'm a little astonished.. What did he say?"

Kurt rises and wanders over to her wardrobe, looking at various dresses and pieces, "Oh, just this and that about finding the thug and beating him up. Offered to get drunk with me. You know, Puck's way of comforting.. I think he started to panic when I teared up. He stayed with me though. Granted, he started rambling about football," He turns to face her, his eyes soft, "but he stayed."

She smiles softly, "He's a good guy when he wants to be."

"You'd know," He mumbles, and she ignores the comment. "What are you doing today then? I'm feeling like I need some retail therapy. Your wardrobe needs therapy – so what do you say to a shopping date? I'll give you an hour?"

Quinn doesn't know why, but Kurt can twist her arm in a way that very few other people can. Maybe it's because she see's similarities between then, maybe it's because she see's that he's just as lonely as her and unwilling to fix it and _maybe _it's just that he understands. He understands everything. She doesn't tell him that though, because things like that are better left unspoken.

Although she'd tell anyone else where to go, she grumbles a little and bites out: "Fine. An hour and a half and you've got me."

Kurt claps gleefully, and then leaves her room so she can get ready.

* * *

"Oh!" He exclaims, holding a hand to his heart, "I wasn't aware Santana was entertaining in the kitchen now." Kurt had walked out of Quinn's room, and straight into a kitchen in which Santana and her latest squeeze were kissing heavily on the kitchen counters. This makes him frown, "Oh Santana, be more sanitary than that, you know Rachel will kill you if she see's you doing _that here._"

Santana shrugs, climbing off of the boy, "Probably. How's she going to find out?"

He smirks, "Looks like I've got some leverage," They both laugh lightly, and that's when the man with dark hair and memorable features leans forward. Through Santana and Kurt's exchange, he had been fixing himself. His face is friendly and his eyes are warm, and it makes Kurt feel welcome immediately.

"Sorry, I'm Blaine. I didn't mean to cause .. a scene," He laughs, and holds his hand out for Kurt to take.

Uncaring of where that hand may have been since last night, Kurt takes it gladly, "Kurt, nice to meet you. It's fine, San's not really the quiet type anyway. Many a time we've had to encounter mornings like this," He laughs, realising that he may be painting Santana a little as a whore. She doesn't seem to care though as she checks her reflection out on one of the spoons littered around the kitchen. Kurt casts a disapproving eye around; it's clear no one has intentions to clean up last nights mess. "I'll get going. You should clean this kitchen though – it's not fair to always leave it to Rachel."

That means a lot coming from Kurt, as he's usually the first to criticise Rachel on her pitch on a song or the outfit she wears (usually the latter), but he and Rachel are kindred spirits in ways. They both share a strong fanatic for musicals, and know every character and song inside out. Others may disagree, but it's something he thinks he and Rachel should be proud of. (They are. And everyone knows it as they never stop hearing about it.)

* * *

"_Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're only a daaaaaaaaaayyy a-waaayyyy!"_

Rachel cringes, and jots down a large no beside the girls name. She should have insisted on auditions being done with a Rent song, but a tiny part of her is afraid she'll be scarred then and unable to listen to the songs again. She's beginning to feel weary though; it's been two hours, and so far she has one maybe. No definite people. Rachel looks back at the list of auditionee's, and is glad for the break that is coming. She's finished for today with people auditioning for roles, she just has a few people coming in for other parts now.

"Alright, that's a wrap. I've a director coming in now, so if –"

"One more Rachel," Brittany points out, showing her the list for today. Rachel realises she's right and sits back down, feeling weary and wishing for the excitement she had that morning. She wants to feel optimistic and ready to take on the world again, but it's becoming more and more difficult with each person. Rachel's not even sure she'll get a decent cast at this point, which is surprising. New York is crawling with struggling singers. She supposes not much want the hassle of a musical, and just want a straight shot to Broadway or a record deal.

She's cut short from her musings by the sound of footsteps across the stage, but keeps her eyes on the sheet of people for a moment more. She can hear Brittany talk to the person, and is once again thankful for the girl's presence. Brittany is a renowned dancer with many credits to her name, but still a struggling dancer at that. She struggles like any other artist in New York to make it big or make an impact, and decided to help Rachel out to at least add it to her experience.

She teaches a dance class every Sunday and Wednesday evening, and works as a waitress at a local cafe otherwise. Rachel's rarely seen anyone dance like Brittany can; she's mesmerising.

"... Alright, take it away," Brittany smiles brightly at the woman, and Rachel twirls her pen between her fingers as a means of entertainment. Then the woman opens her mouth, and Rachel's drops in surprise.

"_And I am telling you  
I'm not going  
You're the best man I'll ever know" _She starts out soft, a hypnotising and attention-grabbing quiet melodic voice at first. Her eyes are closed and she's portraying every little emotion through the expressions on her face. She then opens her eyes, and Rachel's taken aback.

_"There's no way I can ever go  
No, no, there's no way  
No, no, no, no way I'm living without you  
I'm not living without you  
I don't wanna be free  
I'm staying  
I'm staying  
And you, and you  
You're gonna love me, oh ooh mm mm  
You're gonna love me"_

She sings it with passion in her eyes, but with an ease that says it all comes natural. The amazing notes she's hitting and the control she's keeping doesn't seem to faze her – it's not difficult or challenging, but just _is. _Rachel can't speak, and that's just as well, because as she goes on, Rachel's further impressed and knows that there's no way she's going to _let _her go.

"_Tear down the mountains  
Yell, scream and shout like you can say what you want  
I'm not walking out  
Stop all the rivers, push, strike and kill  
I'm not gonna leave you  
There's no way I will_

_And I am telling you  
I'm not going  
You're the best man I'll ever know  
There's no way I could ever, ever go  
No, no, no, no way  
No, no, no, no way I'm living without you  
Oh, I'm not living without you,  
Not living without you  
I don't wanna be free  
I'm staying, I'm staying  
And you, and you, and you  
You're gonna love me_

_You're gonna love me, yes you are  
Ooh ooh love me, ooh ooh ooh love me  
Love me, love me, love me, love me_

_You're gonna love me " _She belts out the last long even more effortlessly, waving her arm around theatrically. At the sound of 'me' she reopens her eyes and stares at them determinedly, and Rachel can barely move.

"Thank you," She smiles widely, and her teeth are perfectly straight and gleaming white. She's standing confidently in the middle of the stage, a young Jennifer Hudson among them. Smooth black skin void of any blemish or spot, dark brown eyes that capture emotion and passion like never before and an aura of 'I _am _the star'. To be honest, Rachel can tell straight off that she will be a diva, but she doesn't care. She's a little overweight, but it doesn't mean much to Rachel in light of her amazing voice. She glances down at the sheet to catch the girls name again.

It takes just about all of her willpower not to gush. "Thank you, Mercedes. We'll be in touch."

Mercedes pauses for a moment, and then nods. Rachel knows she wants to say her piece, but prays that she doesn't shatter all that Rachel had confirmed in her head about her. She wants Mercedes to walk off the stage – dignified – not to list off the reasons of why she is the biggest star, and deserves a part. Rachel see's she's auditioning for Mimi, but she's not sure if she wants her for that part.

Mulling this over, she sighs out of relief as Mercedes walks off stage.

"Wow!" Brittany gushes excitedly. All Rachel can do is nod: the excitement from this morning? It's back. _Tenfold._

* * *

I'm quite disappointed with the lack of attention this story has gotten :( Anything you'd like to see more of? It is just heating up, it takes a bit to get such an epic up and running. But what I'm writing now is getting into the drama and couples of things.. nothing is as it seems, remember! haha... So, in short, I'd love some reviews. Oh ,and in my mind, I don't adapt the characters to be like the FRIENDS ones, but: Rachel has a little of Monica, Quinn has a little Rachel, Santana has a little Rachel and Monica, Brittany has a little Phoebe, Puck has a little Joey and Chandler, Finn has a little Chandler and Joey, Mike has a little Ross and Chandler, and Kurt... well, he's a character entirely unto himself. BUT, I could liken him to Rachel and Chandler. A LITTLE BIT. haha.. anyway, these have no indications of who'll be with who or anything like that. Just something I thought as I was writing it. Also, i do not own friends, glee, or Yeah X3 by Chris Brown.

Anyway, I'll post the next chapter soon! Thanks.  
xCNx


	4. The One With The Extra Seat

Chapter Four: The One With The Extra Seat

_iv: you're strumming on my heart strings, like you were a grade 8._

There's a smell of rotten food and sweat that's so overwhelming it makes his eyes water, and he resolves to breathe through his mouth and close off his nose. His nostrils are still burning though, and he fears that his tonsils may burn too if he switches to breathing through his mouth. He doesn't even know where to start, with the piles and piles of filthy dishes, pots and pans, cooking utensils and cutlery hiding the sink from view. Not to mention the crisps and other food he doesn't want to dissect all over the floor in the living room, and the smashed glass. And the filthy toilet that he knows it's his duty to clean. And the stain on the couch (he's not sure what it is, and to be truthful, doesn't want to find out).

"There's a smell of _sex_ in here," Puck announces from beside him, his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up.

This makes Finn's stomach churn again. He'd just been able to eat without barfing, and now, he is pretty sure he's going to spit it all back up.

There's a distinct spot on the counter that's free of any plates or pots or food, and he has a bad feeling about it. Puck gestures to the spot then, "I'd say that's the scene of the crime. Certainly wasn't me! I wouldn't have sex in the girls apartment." Finn gives him a look, and Puck rolls his eyes, "Okay, I wouldn't have sex with _another _girl in their apartment. Not after last time." He gets a look of horror across his face, but quickly shakes it off. "Unless it's one of them, obviously."

Finn puts on a pair of marigold gloves, handing Puck the pink ones. He wonders how _they _got stuck with cleaning this. There were at least three others involved! Puck's comment draws his attention, "As long as it's not Rachel. You and her making out has scarred me for life," He shivers to prove his point.

"Bullshit. You just want back in her pants, and don't want to see anyone else doing it. What the fuck is this?" He asks, holding up what _looks _to be a half-eaten chocolate bar saturated in something. Again, Finn doesn't want to know.

"Looks like a bar."

Puck glances at him, "Looks like it _used to be _a bar. And thanks for the pink gloves, dickwad."

Finn grins, "Thought you'd be manly enough for them," the way to please Puck – as a man – is through his ego.

"Fuck you."

"So where's the brunette from last night?" Finn questions, setting about cleaning the mess at and around and in the sink. Puck takes this as a cue to get cleaning the sitting room.

"Ah, man, come on. She's long gone, thank god. Had a mouth like a motor." He pauses, "Like _Rachel._ It was absolutely awful." Finn is ready to defend the short brunette, and he goes on, "Chill, dude, I love Rachel and all, but you gotta' admit she talks a lot."

Finn can't object. "Not to mention she's a crazy bitch sometimes."

"Puck!"

"What?" He looks at him innocently, and goes about cleaning again. "How the hell did we get stuck doing this?"

"I don't know." Finn replies petulantly and scrubs the pan with all his might, "Why do you always have to cook? Take if from someone who eats just about anything, you're shit at it."

"I know that _soberly." _As if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Puck hates cleaning. In fact, he hates cooking and cleaning and always promised himself that if he ever feels inclined to get married, the chick would have to be well versed in these areas. Unfortunately, it seems that every girl he ever feels anything remotely close to like for fails epically at these things. (He never minded with them) It's why he got rid of them.

Puckzilla doesn't deal in mediocrity. Sure, he has enough of it himself. In most areas minus social ones. And sexual – unless that counted as social? He isn't sure. He knows he sure performed last night though, and smirks at the thought. Good 'aul Quinn picking out the screamers, she's good like that. Hot Brunette Who Screams won't forget the name Puckerman anytime soon.

(He never lets girls call him Noah. It reminds him too much of mistakes he's made – he's Puck forever more with girls.)

Either way, he and Santana are the ones with the best libido around these parts. Their other friends close their legs a little more, at different levels of course. Rachel is like a fucking nun. Quinn makes you work, which gets a bit weary for some guys. She doesn't regard sex as 'sacred' like Rachel. Brittany is just as liberal with her body as Santana, but sticks around for longer and doesn't treat them awfully. She generally explains in very plain terms that it will be a one-night thing. Of course, that'd all be done in her innocent, blonde and slightly slow manner. No one takes offence because of that.

Finn scores every once and a while, Mike whenever he tries and Rose (Kurt) barely ever gets any. That said, Puck recognises that it is slightly harder for him.

"_Santana," _A voice groans loudly, and Puck and Finn's heads both shoot up. A mixture of amusement and disgust dons their faces, and Finn drops the sponge and pulls off the gloves rapidly. Puck laughs loudly, then proceeds to shout, "Go get 'em, slutface."

There's another loud moan, and Puck is not far behind Finn as they race out of the apartment.

It's really a blessing in disguise, Puck thinks as he makes it into his apartment. Now he doesn't have to clean that dump.

_And _Rachel can't accuse them of not trying.

* * *

Mike's a rather laid-back guy. He doesn't cheat any system, he doesn't cause trouble, he follows rules. On the other side of things, he hangs out with friends, has the occasional girlfriend and goes out with his friends on Saturdays every now and again. He lives his life according to the rules, but he doesn't throw away the fun side of living. He enjoys life and stays out of trouble at the same time and is generally rather proud of that. His friends are not quite in the same boat in this regard. The closest to it would actually probably be Finn, because his problems and breaking of the rules is often and largely by accident. He has the most unfortunate luck, really.

(Out of all of them, they know Finn has the worst luck. He's had hard times fall upon him and Mike can never quite forget that while talking to him.)

He's the latest addition to their group, having moved into the apartment next to Finn and the guys a little over two years ago. He can remember meeting them the first day as clear as crystal, and had instantly wanted to become part of what they had. (Because he didn't always live with fun in his life.)

"Puckerman, get out here now! Before I strangle you with my bare hands and feed you to the stray dogs in the alleyway. You know I like to feed them, and I sure as hell wouldn't mind making you their meal for tonight!" Mike stood in the hall way, mouth agape as four girls stood at someone's door, beating it down ferociously. They all had various pieces of clothing missing and some more than others. There was a short, fiery brunette standing at the door, hitting it ferociously. Mike flinched with each bang and realised the girls hadn't noticed him yet. Her bangs fell into her eyes every few moments, and she blew at them relentlessly as she shouted just as relentlessly. He was pretty sure the whole apartment block could hear her.

A stunning blonde leant against the wall beside the door she was banging on, between his apartment and the other. She was looking at the small brunette as she yelled, flinching when she hit a particular high note. She was wearing a white shirt and a pair of bright pink boxer shorts, complete with bare feet. He wondered what had caused them to land in this position.

A second blonde was whispering quietly what Mike _thought _was a spell from Harry Potter at what he assumed was their door, across from the one short brunette was shouting at. She had an amazing figure and long, wavy blonde hair. She was just in her bra and a pair of rather skimpy underwear that made Mike feel like he had to avert his eyes, and quickly.

He then turned to the tanned Spanish-looking woman sitting on the step that led to their apartments. She appeared to be rather bored, and unperturbed by her state of shorts and a white, lace bra. He also felt the need to avert his eyes. (But she may be the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.)

It was then that the yelling was interrupted by the first blonde raising an eyebrow at him, "Are you quite done?"

His automatic reaction was stammering, feeling as if he had been caught in an awful act. It wasn't his fault they were sitting there, in their underwear, calling the attention of half the block! Well, he assumed half the block could hear.

"You—you're quite loud. That's all."

"Who are you? I haven't seen you around before," The tanned one asked him, surveying him with – what he hoped – was an appreciative glance.

"Mike Chang. I just moved in," He explained, feeling awkward.

"Quinn Fabray." The beautiful blonde spoke, and then nodded her head towards their apartment, "That's where we live. The tool that lives here locked us out though."

"Santana, and that's Brittany," she motioned to the girl still performing spells at their door. She then turned to the noisy one, "the yeller is Rachel. She doesn't like being so exposed," she added, and he supposed they felt responsible for all her noise. Although Rachel was the least exposed, wearing a short skirt and white tank top.

Brittany turned around with a crestfallen expression, "I was sure that that would work. I saw it work on the tv."

"It's alright, B." Santana replied softly, "We'll get them to open up."

Quinn straightened herself, seemingly fed up. "Oh, enough shouting, Rachel. Guys, open the door or we'll unleash Rachel's secret weapon. You know what that is and you _honestly _don't want to hear it, do you?"

There was silence. "You're such a bitch, Q."

Quinn smiled, and then turned to Rachel, "Go on. He's not opening."

Rachel took a deep breath, "_You are my sunshine, my only sunshi—"_

The door was thrown open, and the girls marched in angrily. Santana was the last to go in, and turned to him, "You coming, Asian boy? Strip poker," she winked, and despite knowing that he should probably be insulted, he never felt more proud to be called Asian.

Mike can still remember every touch, whisper, kiss and word from that night. He isn't quite sure when it happened, but he's sure that was the start of it. The start of the angst-ridden love life he leads.

Because, contrary to popular belief, Mike never hated Santana after she told him it was a one-night thing. However, it does seriously affect his ability to tell her he's been in love with her for at least the last year.

"Chang, wake up! Those numbers aren't going to work themselves out, you know," His boss barks, and Mike shakes all those thoughts from his head. They're not important, and they'll never be important. (He wishes desperately that that was true.)

* * *

Quinn gets home and almost feels guilty for the atrocity that is their living room and kitchen, but then thinks better of it. It's not her fault the place is so bad, she's pretty sure she had limited involvement in the process.

Carefully stepping over all the bits and pieces, she makes her way to her room where she lays down her shopping bags on the bed. Nothing better than a day of shopping to make you feel better! Her stomach rumbles and Quinn wonders how long it'll be until the kitchen is able to provide food again. Looks like take-out is on the menu tonight.

Guilt rises again, and she decides that she'll get Finn and Puck to help. She would get Santana, but judging by the scrunchie on the door, she's still busy. Quinn's more than surprised the guy is still there; Santana very rarely has men around for this long. He must be good, she muses, unable to help herself.

Her resolve set, Quinn marches over to the boys apartment and opens the door. The place is eerily quiet, "Puck? Finn?"

She knows it's Kurt in the shower, because he had told her he was going to take a long, relaxing shower the moment he got in the door. But where are the other two? Quinn hears hushed voices, and follows them to Puck's room. She hesitates; what if it's the girl from last night? No. The voices sound distinctly male, and Puck is in work tonight – he wouldn't keep a girl around this long.

That covered, she opens his door, "What the hell are you guys doing?" Finn jumps, as if caught in the act, and Puck swerves around to look at her.

They're sitting at Puck's window, gazing out at something that must be interesting, because judging by the cans and food around the window, they've been there a while.

"N—nothing," Finn stammers, avoiding her eyes and standing in front of the window.

"Oh god, you two are pathetic. If you're perving on some poor, innocent girl, don't worry. I'm not going to report you."

"It's more than that," Puck smirks, who had stayed at the window nonchalantly the entire time. "It's a full _yoga _class, Q."

Her interest piqued, she squirms in between the two of them and finds that there is indeed a class on session across the way in the community centre. She gives them both an exasperated look, "Desperate. Anyway, I came around to get you two to help me clean the kitchen."

Finn is still on the subject of the yoga class, "Honestly, we were only here ten minutes. Don't give me that look! All this shit is just Puck's room," Puck nods in agreement, and she doesn't see any reason for him to lie.

"I don't really care guys," she laughs, "but you are cleaning the kitchen with me now. And living room. And bathroom, _Finn._"

He cringes, and Puck replies indignantly, "We tried earlier! You can even tell someone started on it. But then Santana was getting freaky down and loud with whoever she's with and we made a run for it. Is she done?" he asks, realising that their apartment may still be unsafe.

"I have no idea, but don't worry, I'll be abandoning the cause if there's any 'wanky' from Santana. Let's go, soldiers." They exchange a look of resignation, and follow the blonde out of the room. They're both powerless to deny her request, and know that if they don't oblige, the next time they go out the mess will be in their apartment.

Puck likes his manly smell in the place, but he definitely does not like the smell of vomit, burned and rotten food or anything akin to that in his apartment.

* * *

"Pay can be negotiated. I'm not looking for anything outrageous, just reasonable. My resume is pretty ace, let's admit that Ms. Berry," the man smiles at her from across the table, and she automatically smiles back. Why? Because he's right, he ticks all the right boxes and has incredible experience that she can't possibly turn away. In addition to that, he's looking for half the pay the next guy is looking for. He says he knows what Rent is about, and is ready to embrace it. He knows what it's like to be an outsider, knows what it's like to cope with prejudice and he will do everything to make Rent the hit it is.

She's thoroughly impressed for the second time today, and turns to Brittany. Brittany isn't looking at her at all though, she's staring at him with an awe-filled expression, "How do you dance?" She suddenly asks, and her expression is more serious and levelled than Rachel's ever seen.

He shifts a little at the question, and Rachel gets the distinct impression that he's a slightly uncomfortable. Despite that, he's not angry or offended, and answers her quite simply, "I can't."

Brittany's face is one of sorrow, and her eyes soften in sympathy. She reaches across the table and grabs his hand, "I'm so sorry." She truly means it, too. Rachel knows how highly she values dance, how she believes it can power the world. How she believes it can fuel magic and make a person whole again. Furthermore, she knows that Brittany thinks that if he could just _dance, _he _would _be whole again.

He gives her a smile that's as charming as it is genuine, "Don't be. I can direct, and that's all that matters." Rachel is bristling now, because Brittany is still looking at him intently, and her hand is still on his.

Rachel pulls their hands apart, reigning in the comment about professionalism somehow. "I think, without even privately consulting, I can safely say we both would love for you to direct Rent, Mr. Abrams."

* * *

Mike gets a text about dinner at the girls apartment tonight, and smiles in anticipation of a dinner with his closest friends. He knows he'll be the latest again – work sometimes holds him up, especially at month end – but hopes that they waited for him again. He hates having to play catch-up at dinner, but in their defence, they usually wait for him until it crosses the boundaries of acceptable. Meaning, when he is over an hour late. It's only fifteen minutes over time tonight though, and so he has a good feeling that they've waited.

Who cooked dinner crosses his mind, and Mike hopes against hope that it was Kurt. Not one of them could cook like Kurt, and Mike considers himself pretty handy in the kitchen. Finn and Puck are awful, so he knows it wasn't them. Quinn is also god awful so that rules her out. Brittany makes the strangest combinations so he decides that he may skip dinner if she cooked it. Santana is not bad, and Rachel's very good.

He's not ready for the sight that greets him when he opens the door though. There's a proper, traditional spread of all things 'Sunday Dinner' and he blinks. There's chairs pulled in from the boys apartment, and it looks squashed, but they've always coped with that. Something's different.

He counts the chairs and finds that they're one extra up. Who on earth would be coming to dinner here?

"Mike! Where've you been? Always late, mister. I'm getting you another watch for Christmas."

"We're doing Kris Kindle this year for Christmas!" Brittany immediately interjects. She pouts then, "I've no money to get everyone something."

"Who's the extra place for?" Mike asks, taking a seat next to Brittany. They never sit in the same places, and he likes that. Tonight, Rachel and Finn are heads of the table. Quinn, Puck and Kurt sit to Rachel's left while Brittany, Mike and two vacant seats are on her right. It makes his side far more cramped than those across from him and he grumbles. "Who's the extra seat?"

"Santana's man from last night," Rachel whispers excitedly, her eyes bright.

She's obviously had a good day, and Mike makes a mental note to ask her. Asking Rachel things is often a dangerous game though, as sometimes, she just goes on and on and on and—

"Rejects, this is Blaine. Blaine, rejects." Santana says by way of greeting, and takes a seat next to Mike. He gulps at their close proximity, but he should be used to it. He's done this so many times before.

"Funny, San." Finn replies. He extends his hand to Blaine then, who's sitting beside him, "Finn Hudson."

There's a whole host of hello's then, and Mike watches them all, still in shock from the news delivered to him. He's _never_ met someone Santana's slept with the evening after. His stomach is queasy all of a sudden, and he has a strong urge to leave the table. But Kurt looks so proud and eager for their opinions that he's rooted in the spot.

It's then he notices everyone is looking at him expectantly. He raises his brows in question, and Quinn kicks him under the table, "This is Mike, Blaine.." she sends him a questioning look then, but he shakes it off.

"Nice to meet you," He tells him, shaking his hand firmly. (He's lying. Mike never lies.)

"You too, Mike. Nice to meet all of you – intimidating as hell, but nice."

"Bet you didn't expect to stay for dinner," Puck laughs, receiving several warning glances.

But Santana laughs with him, "Yeah, it's not a normal thing, but me and Blaine.. We're pretty hot together."

"If the screaming is anything to go by.." Finn mutters quietly, and Mike see's Blaine redden. He feels sick.

"I'm sick of discussing Santana's love life. Guess what happened to yours truly today?" Rachel poses the question, but none of them respond all that enthusiastically.

Finn takes it for the team, "What happened?"

"This is amazing, Kurt," Blaine interrupts, smiling at the boy. "Really, how did you learn to cook like that?"

Rachel Berry narrows her eyes slightly, and Mike hides his smile by glancing down at his plate. Mistake one, new kid.

* * *

That's it for now :) Let me know what your thoughts are please! thanks a _million _to those reviewing at the moment btw. Just out of curiosity, what do you all ship? I wish I could reply to anons too, perhaps I'll give a quick shout-out in another chapter.  
Disclaimer: Don't own glee, friends or "Grade 8" by Ed Sheeran, from which the second chapter title is taken.  
Thanks, hope you enjoyed!

xCNx


	5. The One Where Santana Is Pleased

Chapter Five: The One Where Santana is Disgusted (And pleased)

_v. Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else_

Weeks seem to fly by as Rachel throws herself into her new production, leaving all other tasks to one side. She's an events planner part-time, but lately, she hasn't confirmed any bookings or helped anyone. She reasons that she hasn't got the time – that running this show is difficult enough without worrying about work and cutting back hours. (She knows that she really can't keep it up for much longer, her reserves of money is depleting quickly.)

After three weeks of auditions, Rachel is still having trouble finding that perfect ensemble for the musical. Sure, she had seen plenty of talent, but she's struggling to see people in the roles. They're just not _right._ They hit some buttons, but miss the mark completely at other times. They excel at dancing; shaky at singing. Their acting is stellar; they've two left feet.

Rachel is sitting at her kitchen table quietly musing this as she paints her nails. She's rather stumped and at a loss at where to go. Of course, she could just take a chance on some of the _potential _stars. She wants _stars _though, not potential stars. Is that too much to ask? She frowns, knowing that it may be.

What happens next, Rachel believes is fate. She's simply minding her own business, worrying silently in her own kitchen on her own time, when in walks Finn. But oh no, it's just that – he's _singing. _All of a sudden, Rachel knows she has to have him. She has to have him in her ranks and immediately starts going through what character he'd play.

He nods at her, but continues his route to the fridge, belting out Elton John's famous 'Tiny Dancer' while dancing rather amusingly. Finn's oblivious to the fact that Rachel is still staring at him excitedly, almost ready to clap her hands in joy. He has taken a beer from the fridge and leftover pasta, and plonks himself in the chair next to her.

"What's up?" He asks casually, but she only blinks.

"Coaster." He obeys without a noise, and then looks at her for an answer. It's not what he's expecting. "what would you say, Finn Hudson, to being a star in my show? I know, you haven't really got the experience or expertise, but I've been coaching you for years without you even knowing! I mean, when we first started singing on Friday's, your pitch was simply woeful at times. But now, well, you're rarely off! Unless it's a b note of course, you can be shaky on those sometimes. No matter, I think you'd be an excellent addition and you'd be absolutely _perfect _for Roger. Or Collins," She adds thoughtfully, completely immersed in future plans now.

He's speechless, and then starts spluttering madly, "I—I.. Rachel, this is a terrible, terrible idea! I can't dance, I'm nervous on stage – oh god, I'd never be able to sing on stage and you know, there's no way I'd be able to remember _all those lines._"

She opens her mouth to respond, but Santana breezes out of her room as she does, wondering what Finn is making a fuss about. She sets the kettle to boil and takes a seat next to them, "Why so red and stammering?"

Finn looks uncomfortable as he responds, "Rachel wants me to be in her stupid musical."

"It's not stupid!" She shoots back, offended. "I'm going to pretend you never said that, Finn, because I know you're just feeling cornered right now and your automatic response is to go on the offense. Even if it is hurtful and unnecessary." Rachel adds, sending him a pointed look.

"Ah," is all Santana says. He nods, as if she's agreeing with him on his undoubted future failure. Santana frowns, "What's the big deal? Do it. Your voice doesn't make my ears bleed, Rachel needs actors and you're the best for the job out of us."

Rachel nods vigorously and happily in acquiesce with her. Finn sits back, unsure of what's going on. Had Santana honestly just complimented him? Not the point, he reminds himself. He's always had stage fright, and Finn's not sure that even Rachel could scare that away. Sure, she's amazing at what she does, but he's pretty much a lost cause in that regard. His high school Glee club seemed to think so anyway – Rachel knows what a disaster that had been at times. Finn shakes his head – wait a minute, he had been really good at Glee club! He had been the lead male!

He had done it before, and suddenly, with an energy out of nowhere, exclaims out loud, "And I can do it again!"

Santana shakes her head, as if embarrassed for him, and gets up to make tea. Rachel claps excitedly and pulls him in for a tight hug, "Oh this is so great, Finn! With you, that eliminates a lot of work for me. Oh, this is so wonderful! We'll have to start practicing right away, you know that? I understand you work, but the great thing about being a teacher is that you don't have long hours," Finn briefly wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into.

Then Rachel smiles brightly at him, and he decides that no matter the grief this brings him, if it makes her smile like that, he'd happily take it.

* * *

She stares at her calendar for what seems like hours, and can't help the heavy exhale that follows. The weeks are flying by and soon, it'll be winter all over again and her and the girls will go back to counting the pennies to pay for heating. She hates winter in that regard; she has to cough up so much money just to keep warm.

On the other hand, Quinn loves winter. She adores the crisp, cool bite in the morning air; she revels in the early nights with a hot cup of tea and a good book; she secretly craves those nights curled up with someone in front of the fire and don't even get her started on snow or Christmas. So, all in all, she feels the good outweighs the bad in the coming of winter. Even so, she can't escape the feeling that time is going by too fast.

Tearing her eyes away from the calendar for a moment to check the time, Quinn ironically then prays that time will go a little quicker today. She has a bet going with Finn regarding their foosball table and a long day in work. It started with him claiming that it's harder to play after being in work all day, and her laughing at the statement. Puck had readily agreed with Quinn, and encouraged a bet between the two – being the shit-stirrer that Puck is.

"That's unacceptable, I'm afraid. This quote is completely paraphrased, and if you are going to do that, my client deserves fair warning. As it is, I demand that it be taken out, or –"

"Sir, I told you, this has nothing to do with me," A co-worker of Quinn's drones on, sounding bored and unhelpful. Quinn's eyebrows furrow – it's only polite to help the man.

She stands from her desk and approaches him confidently, "Can I help you, sir?"

He swings around to her angrily, but both of them pause for a minute. She's slightly taken about by how _hot _he is. He's tall with a body that any woman desires – defined, wide shoulders, lean frame – and wears a business suit that gives him a certain _je ne sais quoi._

His blond hair just about avoids his eyes, which she thinks is good because his eyes are a captivating crystal blue that causes her to lose her train of thought for a minute. He shakes his head at that moment, "I was just taking issue with your latest edition about to go to print... It—" He stops again, simply looking at her, "It's not what my client wanted."

Quinn scolds herself silently and banishes all wicked thoughts, "I'm sorry to hear that. Well, Ms. Schue isn't available at the moment, but if you wait twenty minutes, she'll be right out."

"Can you not help me?" He asks, an exasperated expression facing her.

She smiles slightly and shakes her head, "I'm afraid not. I've got no pull around these parts, just a bit of writing skill."

His eyes become suspicious, "The gossip column?"

"Not quite. I do the advice section," Quinn laughs, a little embarrassed. She hates telling people that. This isn't what she wants to do forever – when she had finished college, no publishing place would take her without experience and so she ended up here. She supposes she just hasn't gotten around to leaving yet or searching elsewhere.

His smile is animated when he replies, "Oh, I know that one! It's usually something that cheers me up. Just when you think your life is bad, you read about someone whose wife is secretly a heroin addict and sleeping around with all your female friends."

Quinn quirks her brow, "I don't think I've ever given advice on that one.."

"Really? I'm pretty sure I read that. Or about the brother who's really a sister?"

"Now that one, I've had." Quinn can't help but chuckle, and glances down for fear of giving too much of herself away. She doesn't want to seem like she's flirting – because she's not. She's just keeping him company until her boss is ready. That's not a crime, is it? No, she assures herself, it's not. It's polite and upholding the reputation of the magazine.

His eyes seem to catch onto something then, "I actually do know your column... you're the bitchy one, aren't you?"

She should be offended by his words, but seeing as they're true – and the fact that he has the most adorable amused expression on his face – she simply grins, "Bitchy may be a tad harsh. I would say_honest_.."

He shrugs, "If it helps you sleep at night."

A thought strikes Quinn, "Who is your client, by the way?"

The man grins, "Lamar Odom. I used to be strictly a sports manager, but lately I've begun to branch out.."

"Isn't he a sports star?" She asks, frowning. She wonders if that gives the impression she actually follows any sport, because in reality, she doesn't know the difference between American football and rugby, but Keeping up with the Kardashians – that's definitely something she knows.

He leans forward, and her heart – irrationally, in her opinion – beats a little faster. His voice lowers to a whisper as he replies: "Between you and me, he's more reality and celebrity than anything else these days,"

A small, mousy-haired woman scurries over to them then, and Quinn knows her as her boss' personal assistant, Grace. She reminds Quinn distinctly of a mouse due to her hair and facial features – an upturned nose accompanied by freckles scattered across her cheeks that she thinks could be whiskers potentially – and has an irritating voice that causes Quinn to avoid her. "Um, Ms. Schue is ready for you now,"

His eyes widen, as if he forgot what he is here for, and glances at Quinn, "That's my cue, I guess. Thanks for the distraction," He sends her a dazzling smile. His mouth is a little oversized, she thinks, but somehow that still makes him highly attractive, "I never got your name?"

"Quinn Fabray," She replies simply, with a small grin.

He holds out his hand, "Sam Evans. Hey, are you free after this?"

Quinn forgets all about her stupid bet.

* * *

Santana's had an awful day today, and is just looking forward to a nice bath and some hot sex. Blaine invited her over again – yes, yes, she's just as surprised as you that he's managed to hold her attention this long – and she thinks he'll help her unwind and get her mind off of pressing business matters. It's been a hectic week in work with her fellow economists, arguing and debating over potential matters, and she's counting down the days till the weekend. She finds herself doing that a lot these days.

Hopping into her tiny, red car that she adores as it's one of the only valuable things Santana truly _owns, _she thinks about her life at the moment. It's not ideal, but it's definitely different. For starters, she's_dating. _A word that had become foreign to her in the past few years. She hadn't seen the point in dating just to cut them loose eventually – it was always so much hassle. But Blaine? He makes things so easy for her. He listens, he consults, he helps, and by god is he hot in bed. Because let's be honest, she wouldn't be with him if he wasn't.

She's not even close to being in love, but for the first time in a long time, she feels like maybe this man could make her fall in love. (There's something missing that she can't pinpoint, or is not willing to, but she ignores this part steadily.)

Blaine knows a lot of things about her that she very rarely shares. Such as her secret penchant for singing, her teen and childhood dream of making it as a singer, her ambition to simply _make _it and her absolute terror of ending up like her mother.

Santana focuses her eyes on the road – thoughts of her mother should be left in the back of the mind.

She pulls up outside Blaine's quaint flat, and smiles to herself. Slapping on her sexy demeanour, she approaches the door. She only has to knock once before it answers. He leans into kiss her immediately, and when he pulls back and looks into her eyes, he frowns. "Hard day?" Santana probably should have mentioned that she never really told Blaine anything about her, he seemed to read her and then drag it out.

Santana nods, "You have no idea. It's hard being the only woman in a room, let alone the only hot woman."

"I'm sure you can manage," He laughs, then points towards his bedroom – even though she knows it's his bedroom, "Change into something more comfortable if you want. I think there's some clothes from when you last stayed,"

She heads towards his room wordlessly, hoping that he's not about to comment on her staying every now and again. She's desperate to keep things the way they are – why fix something that's not broken? Santana doesn't want to define. She doesn't want to change. It's too much to ask of her.

When she enters the room, she takes a step back again. Turning around to him with wide eyes, she feels at least one layer of ice melt from around her heart. "Blaine?" she asks softly, partly scared, and mostly disgustingly pleased.

The room is decked to the nines in cliche, but she's never had someone make a cliche for her. There's red rose petals scattered across the bed, candles lit on every available surface and the lights are dimmed. There's a bottle of – what she knows is – expensive champagne on the locker beside the bed, and when he takes her hand and leads her into the kitchen, she's further surprised. There's a homemade meal of her favourite (she wonders how he knows already, how he remembered from the meals they've had together) and a candle in the middle of the table. Two wine glass have been set out already. She wants to comment on how cheap it all is; how horribly and awfully cliche'd it all his. She wants to mock him and ask if they're doing some human sacrifices (she knows some people the world would be better off without). But she can't.

Men always attempted to impress Santana. That's nothing new to her – but no one ever really went through trouble to please her. She's never been cooked a dinner, never had a room decorated – and _why_is he doing all this? She eyes him carefully, and asks a simple why.

The answer? For most men, it's getting her to sleep with them again. Or to consider keeping them around for longer.

Blaine shrugs, "You've been stressed this week. You deserve pampering every once and a while, San... You may be made of ice, but I'm pretty sure even ice needs tending to." He flashes a smile then, "And I wanted to impress you, of course. Fabulous cooking skills or what?"

Although she tries against her might, she can't stop her heart skipping a little faster when he smiles. She absolutely hates it.

(She really does absolutely hate it.)

* * *

Hope you enjoyed that chapter! Mega sozzles for the delay in updating, but my exams start Monday so I'm afraid I can't promise that I'll update quick. I'm not even supposed to be on now!haha... Once exams are finished though, I'll be writing bits from my stories daily. Anyway, song title from "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift, and I think it's one to take notice of... I don't own it anyway, or glee or Friends. I know, I was shocked too.

Thanks for reading :)

Reviews – they are _the _best.

xCNx


	6. The One Where Poker is Involved

Chapter Six: The One Where Poker is Involved.

_vi: Oh my goodness, I can't hide it. You just smiled when you walked by me, oh my goodness - Warning signs that no one showed me._

Rachel doesn't like being wrong – in fact, in the girls house, the only one that readily accepts being wrong is Brittany. Inevitably, this causes problems, but nevertheless, Rachel is angry. She swears up and down that she hasn't done the accounts wrong, but Mike only raises a brow at her in amusement. She's running out of money, and fast. She seriously did not want to get a loan out to put on this production, and had been very sure previously that she had enough money in the bank to fund it. Well, that had been from her previous loan.

Rachel groans and sends Mike a helpless look, to which he replies, "Don't get stressed, just manage your finances back. You're spending too much on frivolous items." She's about to fire back, indignant, when he continues. "You are. No room for arguments there. For one, in terms of private and personal spending, why are you spending so much on toiletries? I mean, really? Then, you need to food shop somewhere cheaper – no, I don't want to hear objections. Also, 30 dollars on _one _item of make-up? Rach, you must be crazy!" He declares with wide eyes.

She pouts, "That make-up is essential to my looking good in the morning and presenting the right impression to my cast. I can't have them thinking that looking orange is alright! That would be honestly disastrous to everything I'm working for. I mean, honestly, Michael..."

"Rachel, how many times have I told you that my name is not short for Michael.."

"How many times have I told you that I don't believe you?"

He rolls his eyes, but decides to let that conversation go, "Look, bottom line, you've to cut back everywhere or you're facing some serious repercussions. Trust me." He stares her in the eyes as he says it, trying to convey how serious he is. Rachel seems to realise this though, as she resigns herself to nodding slowly. "And I'll drop around to your theatre one of the days after work to help designate areas to cut back on. Deal?"

She's silent. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope." He grins.

Rachel stands from Mike's tiny table in his kitchen, and paces for a minute or two, leaving him waiting patiently, "I'll ask Finn to take a smaller pay.. You think he will?" She turns to him, worried.

"Believe me, he'll take whatever cut you want him to."

She smiles at this. "I hope you're right. I'm going to need all the help I can get!" She glances at her watch, "I better get back and make some dinner. My turn tonight! See you at nine for poker?"

"Definitely," He nods, and follows her out the door. He locks his own, and then says goodbye as he enters the boys apartment, and she enters hers. Four days ago, Finn had declared a poker war after Quinn had ditched some bet with him. Instead of strip poker, Finn went all out – they're playing for money tonight.

Yes, yes, Mike knows; it's a bad idea waiting to happen. Everyone knows they're better in their underwear than left with no money.

* * *

On Rachel's orders, they're all doing some sort of task in preparation for poker. No one else seems to think that that much preparation is required, but Rachel had been adamant. How can one play cards without appropriate snacks? Also, the surrounding area must be free of all dirt and mess as everyone will be distracted. Finn had wisely refrained from pointing out that no, only Rachel would be distracted. Perhaps Kurt, too, but unlikely as it's not his apartment.

He's currently organising the chairs around the table in an 'orderly fashion' – whatever that means. He and Puck then have to sort out the chips and wait for the others to get ready. As he finishes, everyone is sitting except Quinn, who is breezing around the kitchen, all the while humming to herself. She's getting the dips and chips – eating chips, not like the chips Puck had to deal with.

It ends up being him and Rachel heads of table again, with the boys down his left, and the girls down his right. Kurt is facing Santana, Mike facing Brittany and Puck facing Quinn. He feels they're all ill-matched, but he doesn't want to make everyone change for the sake of who you're staring at.

Besides, he is happy with who _he's _staring at.

"Ok, how do you wanna' play this, Hudson?" Puck asks, dealing the cards.

"Since we always win, maybe we shouldn't play for money..." Mike states, looking uneasily at the girls.

Santana takes immediate offence, "Uh, excuse me? What do you mean you always win?"

"I wasn't aware we took teams," Quinn adds, raising a brow at the boys.

Puck scoffs, "_Please. _You always help each other out.. And let's be honest, if it were boys versus girls, we would win. Every time."

"Want to put your money where your mouth is, Puckerman?" Santana asks, head raised challengingly.

"Let's not all do something we'll regret," Mike tries, knowing he's the voice of wisdom usually.

"That the fear of losing talking, Michael?"

He narrows his eyes at Rachel, picking up the cards Puck put in front of him, "These bitches goin' _down._"

There's a round of cheers from the boys, and Kurt falters, "Am I with you lumberjacks then, yeah?"

"'Fraid so, Gillian. You are a man, are you not?"

Kurt doesn't respond, only picks up his cards. He knows how this will go already; Santana and Rachel will become really competitive and insist on playing until they win, Brittany will invent random winning hands, Quinn and him will eventually get bored while Puck and Finn bask in their glory. Despite it being their first time playing with money, he also knows that Mike will be steadily reminding them throughout how much they've lost.

An hour and a half in, and Mike tilts his head towards Rachel, "Don't you think you should _fold?_" His tone is urging her to accept, but being the stubborn mule she is, she raises her chin and tells him that he'd like that.

Puck casually throws a question to Santana, "So where's flower boy?"

Word had somehow gotten out about Blaine's surprise – even though Santana is adamant that she didn't tell any of them. Which makes Kurt think that Rachel got it out of him when Santana came home in an unusually chirpier than normal mood. Why Rachel? Because, of course, she had been the one to tell them. Kurt eyes her suspiciously, and finds her with a deviant smile.

Santana doesn't bat a lid at his question, "Stop trying to distract me. You don't give a damn where he is. My question though, is why don't you get yourself a girlfriend instead of obsessing over my lovelife? Oh, that's _right._ None will take you cause you've the maturity of a ten-year-old. I'd give Finn twelve by the way, so that's really saying something."

"Baby, don't be so jealous. We can't all be capable of pulling every night – some of us have to settle. I get that. Now come on, you gonna' raise, or what?"

Finn folds and excuses himself for the bathroom, which Kurt is glad for, because he's been complaining about it for around an hour now. To emphasise Kurt's point, Puck tells him that it's about time. Rachel folds, too and inconspicuously goes after Finn. This seems to go unnoticed by the others, but it piques Kurt's interest hugely. It's much more interesting than the stupid game, that's for sure. Believing it to be fruitless and a money-waster, Kurt declares himself out and goes to get some wine.

He wants to be sitting on the arm of the couch, which will allow him to face the bathroom, nonchalantly with a glass of wine in his hand when they come out. Oh yes, he is all for the dramatics.

Meanwhile, Santana is glancing over her cards to judge everyone else. Puck never reveals anything, she's used to that by now. He always wears the same satisfied and amused expression when they play. Santana's not about to lie, she hates that expression. Quinn's wearing a predictably bored look, which tells her that she hasn't got anything exciting. Brittany has long ago abandoned her cards and is making smiley faces with her chips. In between giving Rachel – before she left - annoyingly disapproving looks, Mike only appears pensive. Kurt, Finn and Rachel are gone and she revels in the win she's about to receive.

"Straight, my friends. Read it and weep." She says slowly, laying down her cards.

Mike sighs and throws down a few pairs, and Puck stops her hands from collecting the pile of chips, "Ah, ah, ah my _friend. _Such a good friend." He says lovingly, but mockingly, too. He shows his hand and she sinks back against the chair, defeated, but not finished.

Quinn clears her throat then, "I do believe that _I _win this round, ladies and gents. Pay up."

Puck looks impressed, "Looks as if I underestimated you this round, Fabray. Who knew you could be subtle." She sticks her tongue out jokingly, and he laughs. Santana grumbles something about a poker face.

Kurt is poised perfectly when Rachel and Finn emerge from the bathroom, deep in conversation and unaware of his prying eyes. Finn is concerned judging from his furrowed brows and his mouth set in a thin line. Rachel is gazing up at him apprehensively and apologetically, laying her hand on his bicep gently.

"I don't mean a complete wage cut, Finn. I would never ask that of you, I just meant a little less than what you were expecting. Also, I think we should keep the whole toilet thing between ourselves... though I swear I saw nothing. I don't know what you take me for, but I don't revel in listening to pee. I certainly didn't want to _see _you do it. Honestly, I'm a little surprised you were able to.. No stage fright there I see."

Finn gives her that 'you're crazy' look for a moment, but then shakes his head, "Rachel, I didn't expect any pay."

She's confused. Kurt can't help but roll his eyes and feel rather bored with the whole situation. They're both so stupid and so annoying. _So _annoying, Kurt silently muses. "You- well, what were you expecting me to repay you with?" She asks, her expression a mixture of horror and indignation.

"Hey! What do you think I am? I expected nothing in return. Jesus, Rach, you make it so hard for people to be nice."

"_Excuse _me then for assuming you'd want to be paid for a job. What a silly theory of mine, I'll just toss that one out the window, shall I?"

Finn waves her off, and begins to walk back to the table, "Why don't you just sit down and resume losing more money."

"Losing more money? Okay Finn Hudson, let's have at it. Me, you, and a hand of cards. Bring it." At this point, everyone else has been drawn to their conversation, and there's a slight buzz in the room as the anticipation mounts.

"Girls and boys are tied anyway," Puck exclaims, a sort of excitement in his bones, "You can win it for us, Finn. Berry's not even that good!"

"She's decent," Santana shoots back, and then puts her arm around Rachel. "Finn scratches his nose when bluffing."

Kurt sits back as this develops; he thinks it can only end in tears. The phone rings and as he's beside it, Kurt picks it up, "Hello?... No, this is not Quinn Fabray.." He feels a smirk blossom on his face as the girl in question's eyes dart over to his.

"Kurt, give me the phone," She holds out her hand expectantly.

In the background, he acknowledges that the poker game has begun, but he pays no heed to them. Unfortunately, neither does Quinn. She lunges at him, and he steps back just in time. "Oh? She never told me she was expecting a call, apologies... No, no, don't -" It's then that she tackles him to the ground. They've garnered the attention of everyone else now, and they cheer and laugh as they battle.

The phone is knocked out of his hand, and Quinn climbs off of him to run and get it. Clearing her throat, she stands and straightens herself. "Hello?"

Kurt watches in amusement as she shoots him a glare and goes to her room in a flurry of apologies and questions of wellbeing. Still on the ground, he turns to the others and raises is eyebrows, "What?"

Mike chuckles, then turns back to the game, "Nicely played, Kurt."

"That? Ladies and gentlemen, that was just a warm-up. Wait until she brings him home!"

Puck frowns, "Who home?"

"I don't know, that guy on the phone. He sounded studly even over the _phone."_

Rachel places her hand down, so no one can see, and wonders aloud, "Why didn't she tell me?"

"God, I don't know Rachel, it might have something to do with your _massive trap._"

"I resent that, San. Look Finn, are you prepared to be crushed, or what?"

"Awh, you're just hot air, Rach."

"I raise you five."

"I see your five, and raise you ten." She throws in her chips and eyes him with a challenge.

Finn can't back down, although usually he's not this stubborn, "All in."

"Finnie, are you sure you want to do this?" Her smile is sickly, but he only nods. She's all in, too, and pushes her pile into the centre of the table. Puck and Mike are standing behind Finn, waiting anxiously for them to reveal their cards, while Brittany and Santana stand behind Rachel.

Rachel reveals her hand first, "three of a kind, my good man."

There's a pregnant pause as everyone waits on baited breath. Rachel leans forward a little unconsciously, eyes pinned on Finn. He holds her gaze for a minute, and then leans back, muttering in a defeated tone, "You win."

A beat of silence. "I—I win? I win! I WIN!" She jumps out of her chair and she, Santana and Brittany share a three-way hug. They jump around in celebration then, with Brittany breaking out the robot and Santana doing the cabbage patch.

"In your face, Puckerman!" Santana exclaims joyfully, clinking her glass of cider with Rachel's. "This is cause for celebration my girlies."

Puck pats Finn on the back in commiseration, "Don't worry about it, dude. We'll get them back. Sickened for now though."

Mike nods, "We'll win all that money back, definitely."

Finn isn't as perturbed as Mike and Puck are. He's staring at Rachel laughing and celebrating with Brittany and Santana with a small smile, "But look how happy she is."

Puck frowns. He and Mike exchange a glance, and then dive for Finn's turned down cards. Finn claps his hands over them first, "It's over, I lost, I lost!"

* * *

"_You gotta' know when to hold 'em,_

_know when to fold 'em,_

_know when to walk awaaay..-"_

"Rachel give it up, I've had enough singing for tonight," Mike states wearily from his place lounged across the couch. Needless to say, Santana insisted on everyone staying up for drinks – despite it being a thursday night – and not many could object. Mike, though he usually had great willpower when it came to this kind of stuff (never with Santana), couldn't refuse. Kurt, caring a great deal about appearance and beauty sleep, left hours ago. That leaves the remaining seven.

He can safely say that most of them are fairly hammered. He hopes he can see straight in the morning for work, at least. Santana sits at the end of the couch he's lying on, and his legs are on top of her. Brittany has somehow managed to keep her clothes on this time, but passed out in the corner. Quinn, Puck and Finn are rotating playing spit at the table behind him. While Rachel – well, Rachel is singing her heart out at the top of the room. Again.

"God damn, Quinn. Just let me win something tonight." Finn groans, much to her delight as she pushes all the cards towards him.

"Hey, what can I say? It's my game."

"I do believe I beat you, Q.." Puck states, trailing off mockingly.

"Beginners luck."

"We've played this loads of times!"

Quinn ignores him, "So, Finn... What would you say to a date with my boss?" He lurches so suddenly that the table lifts, and one of the glasses falls to the floor and smashes. Rachel is over like a light. She hates messes in her apartment, it always must be spotless. In addition to this, she's sick to death of her no-brain friends breaking all of her glasses. If only she had civilised, sophisticated friends.

Quinn rolls her eyes at Finn's reaction and helps Rachel clean it – as well as Finn, while Puck watches lazily – and Rachel thinks that Quinn is probably the closest to sophisticated.

"Puck, you _could _help?"

He gives the blonde a grin, "Sorry, I wish I could.. but I really don't want to."

In retaliation to a stupid retort, she flicks a piece of salsa at him that had fallen onto the table. Yes, sophisticated.

"Let's not play that game. I'll just win that one as well," He says nonchalantly.

"Oh? You think so?" Rachel realises at this point that not all of them are actually drunk. Some are able to monitor their intake of alcohol – she, Finn, Mike and Brittany are not included in that bracket.

Quinn picks up a glass of water and holds it threateningly over his crotch before leaning close to him, "You want to make a bet?"

Puck can't break away from her gaze. What's more is that he doesn't want to (never wants to) and only moves closer so that their noses are almost touching. His eyes flicker to her lips for such a brief moment, that one would miss it if they were not observing closely. (Why all their friends always miss it.) He knows it's stupid. He knows he shouldn't.

But dammnit, she always knows what buttons to press. "Try me."

The cold is unwelcoming and presents a shock to his system, but Puck takes it in his stride and maintains his calm demeanour and amused expression. "Are you quite finished?"

"Is that a challenge?" Her tone is questioning, and Quinn is looking at him as if he's severely idiotic now. Puck supposes he is.

"Not necessarily." He responds suavely. Smooth, Puckerman, _smooth. _Crisis averted with minimum damage to reputation and ego. He has done it again, and takes a moment to relish in his awesomeness.

"Well that's not an answer." She always knows which buttons to press. Which is why, in a flurry of movements, he has her thrown over his shoulder and is carrying her to the bathroom. "Puck! Puck!" she's banging her fists against his back, but he's not backing down this time. "Noah Puckerman!" He winces a little. Ouch, she means business.

Oh well. So does he. He turns on the shower knob on the wall, and sets it to cold. All the while, a wriggling blonde struggles against him. He's never noticed how weak she is until now, and is struck by how easy it would be for a man to overpower her at any point in time. (It makes him feel slightly uneasy.)

"Q, I want you to remember that you love me, that you can't live without me and most of all, that you brought this upon yourself." He then dumps her unceremoniously into the bath tub, laughing hard as the water cascades down her face and drenches her hair and clothes. His laughter fades when he notices she's simply staring at him.

"God, you're so hot right now. All that manly control you had... It—It got me kind of hot and bothered, Noah," the way she whispers his name at the end immediately as _him_ hot and bothered. She's staring up at him with those captivating eyes filled with lust and want, angling her body so that her breasts are pushed higher and her legs are tantalizingly glistening with water in the dim light of the bathroom. It only takes him a minute to lean down towards her.

It's then that she pulls him in with her. "Looks like you need a cold shower, _babe._"

* * *

Okay, so first offf... sooo sorry about the long wait in updating! I've had exams the past two weeks. I've one more left, but it's not for ten days, and it's French so I think I'm good for it. Anyway, back on track now. I'm eager to get this story up to the point it used to be at! But.. but, please, could I have more reviews? I'll be ever so grateful. Virtual hugs and money for all!

I don't own glee, Friends, "the gambler" by Kenny Rogers or "Oh My Goodness" by Olly Murs. Great album btw, I recommend it!

Snippets of next chapter:

_"He's the perfect Roger, Rach! His hair is curly as well, which means he's bendy and good for dancing."  
~_

_Kurt hesitates before throwing it back to Quinn, "You didn't tell him about Puck?"_

_She wishes he hadn't said that. Had it been really necessary to say that? no. Just Kurt and his big mouth. With one look, she makes it clear she's not happy with him, and scrambles to find something to say to Sam, who's waiting patiently, "We.. We have a history, is all."_

_Kurt raises an eyebrow, puzzled, "It's a lot-"_

_"A history." Quinn repeats. Kurt finally gets the message and sinks back against his chair, silenced.  
~_

Hopefully that's enough to intrigue you to read the next chapter! haha... I aim to update sometime later in the week, after I write more. I'm still way ahead in chapters but would like to keep it that way :) Thanks for reading, and reviews are like Quam duets! haha.. Which are good in my books, btw. Very, very good.  
CN.


	7. The One In Which Puck Performs

Chapter Seven: The One In Which Puck Performs.

_vii: It's the wrong kind of place, to be thinking of you._

Rachel adjusts the glasses sitting on her head, wishing she could pull them down over her eyes again for the fifth time that day. Her eyes are stinging – no, _burning – _with the lack of sleep. She's not quite sure what time she fell asleep at, but she does know it felt like just as she did wander into dreamland, her phone rang with a quizzical Mr. Abrams on the other line.

Today is slightly important as they have their final audition. See, Rachel already has a bias against this man. He requested an audition, but couldn't do it during the actual auditions because he was doing a show, and instead wanted his own personal day in October. He has some gall is her opinion. Mr. Abrams thinks he has experience though, and Brittany tends to agree.

So, here she is, Friday afternoon with a raging headache, burning eyes and a tiredness in her bones, waiting for this diva to show up. He has some gall, she thinks again.

Brittany is sitting to her right, and Mr. Abrams to her left. She likes him. He's kind and bright, with a genial tone and a funny sense of humour. Yet, he's hard-working and knows what he's talking about. Rachel can certainly admire that in a person.

She glances at her watch, and notes that he's ten minutes late. Who does he think he is? She has call-backs later this afternoon, and he's wasting her time. Just as Rachel is about to voice this opinion to her two companions, in strolls the man himself. He's taller than she had pictured; slender, pale with dark, curly and unruly hair. Wearing a grey v-neck t-shirt that would usually indicate some degree of 'camp' to her, and black jeans, he looks _hot._

She still doesn't like him. Especially when he opens his mouth, and that saunter becomes something that irritates her. "Jesse St. James, here for the role of Roger. You ready?"

"When you are," Mr. Abrams replies with a smile. (She doesn't like to call him by his first name yet – doesn't know if she can.) He merely nods, then gives the signal to the pianist. He starts eerily quiet, and against her wishes, her treacherous body has goosebumps all over.

"_I'm Writing One Great Song Before I_ .." He looks appropriately pained, genuinely feeling the song so much that for a moment – just a moment – she almost believes him.

_"One Song  
Glory  
One Song  
Before I Go  
Glory  
One Song To Leave Behind.."_

His acting is superb. His voice is excellence. His look is perfect. She can't find fault – even if she does want to.

"_One Song  
He Had The World At His Feet  
Glory,"_

He's walking towards them then, off the stage towards their place in the seats. His eyes bore into hers, sincerity and genuinity – not to mention raw passion – in every word he sings,

"_In The Eyes Of A Young Girl  
A Young Girl  
Find Glory  
Beyond The Cheap Colored Lights"_

_"Find_

_One Song  
A Song About Love  
Glory  
From The Soul Of A Young Man.."  
A Young Man,"_ He's running back onto the stage again, his voice remaining exactly in tune and not missing a beat. She hates that she's so impressed.

"_Time Flies  
And Then - No Need To Endure Anymore  
Time Dies,"_

The final note is so wonderful that she wants to clap and cheer uproariously, but her pride keeps her seated. Not to mention her professionalism. Brittany, however, disregards this and claps anyway. Rachel shoots her a glare and clears her throat. She can see his already swollen ego swell a little more.

As Brittany is opening her mouth to – probably – gush, Rachel says in a sweet sickly tone, "Thank you, we'll be in touch." Much to her surprise, he bows his head and thanks them before leaving the stage.

"Um, YES." Mr. Abrams says, and Rachel sighs.

"You're right."

"He's the perfect Roger, Rach! His hair is curly as well, which means he's bendy and good for dancing."

Mr. Abrams looks at her curiously, and Rachel tells him it's better not to ask. She can't refrain from pointing out what annoys her though, "He looks like he'll be a glory-grabber alright! Good song to pick. And also, I specifically asked no Rent songs and there he goes, doing a Roger.."

"He did it well."

"That doesn't matter!"

"... I'm pretty sure it does, Rachel." He calls her by her first name, and she's surprised for a moment.

"Well, _Artie, _I do believe I'm in charge here." There's a silence in which all of them digest what she just said.

"Who's being the glory-grabber now?" Brittany laughs nervously, attempting to melt the tension.

The look on his face makes her feel guilty, and she knows what she said was wrong. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just took an instant dislike to him – I'll remedy that, don't worry. Now, who have we got for which parts?"

Brittany produces the list of call-backs, and they begin to go through the various names. Those who they've forgotten are deemed not worthy, and are already cast off. Rachel insists they need to be memorable. If they can't at the very least be memorable, then it's a no from her. Harsh, she's aware.

"Mercedes Jones.." Artie trails off, "I haven't gotten to see her properly yet, but she's coming in today?"

"Yes. She's amazing, and I want her for Maureen."

"Maureen?" Mr. Abrams frowns, "Wouldn't she be a better Joanne, by looking at her at the very least?"

"But she's got this sass and confidence that is so Maureen." Brittany speaks up, agreeing with Rachel for once.

Mr. Abrams then reminds them that the call-backs are in five, and so they quickly decide on those that they've to pay special attention to. Rachel's excited – beyond excited. Not only will she have her decision on her cast by tonight, but also, Finn is auditioning.

This will be _good, _and she knows it.

(She also knows that by the end of the day, no one will top Jesse, and she'll have to cast him somewhere.)

* * *

Today it's busy. She hates it when it's busy. Why? Because often, she can't follow what's going on around her – and my god, why do they ask for so much? Never mind her, how do _they _remember all that caffeine they order? That's why she always hopes they don't notice when she gives them normal, ordinary coffee.

Funny thing is, a lot of them don't notice. She wonders why they go through the extra trouble... trying to be special or something, she assumes.

Brittany can't quite empathise there, because she's a unicorn. Which means she's magical – she has an inner magic and uniqueness that is her. She doesn't need to try to be special, she simply is. Brittany has many other unicorns in her life; those who are magical in themselves, and aren't afraid to show it. Of course, none of them are as awesome as her. But they can try.

She's not quite sure why she works here. Brittany's pretty awful at pleasing customers in a non-sexual manner, and she very rarely remembers orders correctly and often completely forgets about a customer. What's more is that her friends always come in for coffee and sit around and chat... How can Brittany resist doing the same? Which is why she resigns herself to another lecture from her boss – she's lucky that he's infatuated with her – as Santana walks in from work.

"Hey B," She smiles, and sits down on the couch. She lets out a long sigh and asks her for a normal coffee.

Brittany's grateful, and lets her know as much. That order is definitely manageable. She gets it in record time (it's Santana, of course she'd be courteous and timely for her) and brings it back to her friend, then taking a seat next to her. Santana laughs, "Shouldn't you be working?"

She shrugs, "Probably." Brittany watches as Santana cradles the coffee in her hands and leans her head back against the sofa, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Brittany lightly runs a comforting hand through her hair, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a hectic time in work."

"Me too." Brittany nods, and Santana opens her eyes again to eye her amusedly. "I had, like, four orders today. It's pretty mental."

"Since nine?"

"Mm-hmm. I was surprised, too. I got two out of the four right as well.."

"That's great, B." They're silent for a few peaceful moments, with Brittany glancing over her shoulder for her boss. He doesn't seem to be in plain sight and so she relaxes a little more, stroking her friends hair slowly. (She knows it soothes Santana, even if the woman would never admit it.)

"Are you going to Puck's bar tonight?"

"You know it's not actually Puck's bar, don't you, Brittany?"

"Well he doesn't _own _it. But he _owns _it, if you know what I mean."

Santana just smiles (another would receive a bitchy comment) and goes on, "Anyway, I don't think so. I know he'll be a little pissed, but Blaine asked me to go to a business dinner with him and I already said yes."

Brittany picks up empty cups of coffee on the table in front of them. They're sitting on a three-seater couch, with two arm chairs either side and a coffee table in the middle. It's not unlike the set-up in their sitting room. Pulling her cloth from the pouch in her apron, she wipes the table down gently. "You're really serious about him, aren't you?" Santana opens her eyes once again quickly, putting down her coffee, but before she can speak, Brittany beats her to it, "I think it's good. Oh my god, San, there's this guy in our musical and he's-he's absolutely adorable. And not in a baby way, but in a 'I-would-do-you-even-with-Lord-Tubbington-in-the-room' way."

She shifts a little. "Oh?"

Brittany smiles brightly, like a little child, "Yeah! I'm thinking of seducing him with my Britney-like qualities. How can he resist? Unless he has a Britney repellent like I read online. Did you know that non-blonde's have this ability to just ignore Britney and those like her?"

"Really?" She's always been so understanding and kind to Brittany, in a way that she isn't to others. That's why they're best friends. There's an innocence in Brittany that Santana loves, because when she's with her, she feels innocent, too. She feels carefree and calm; like she hasn't seen the things no one should, like she has no cares, like she hasn't got a quick-fire temper.

"Yep. Britney's manager is apparently trying to find a cure."

"Where the hell do you read this stuff, Brit?"

The girl looks confused, as if the answer should be obvious, "Wikipedia."

Before Santana can reply, Finn enters and falls into the armchair to the right of them. He's looking pensive and troubled, so naturally Brittany wants to know what is wrong. She hates when her friends are sad – rainbows can't happen unless everyone is happy. Duh. He has his 'man-bag' – as Puck calls it – from class and his coat and jacket is still on.

"Finn?" Santana speaks first, looking at him quizzically.

He jumps, as if only realising they were there, "Oh, hey. Brittany, could I have a cappuccino, please?"

She nods, knowing she's going to just give him a normal coffee, "Sure."

He shakes his head, as if clearing all thoughts, and sends Santana a smile, "How was work?"

"Oh, busy. How was Glee practice? You know, sometimes, I wonder if Kurt's overwhelming gay presence has affected you. No one would blame you if you turned out that way."

"Funny." He replies, deadpan. "It was interesting. One of the girls is a bit in love with me, actually," he admits. "Like Rachel was with our teacher back in the day."

"Are you sure she doesn't just want the lead?"

He shrugs, "Maybe. Doubtful though, she sang to me today.. Anyway, more importantly -" He stops as Brittany places the coffee in front of him, and he sips it. "Brittany this is awful. It's normal coffee."

"I don't like weird coffee."

He sighs, unwilling to fight her on it – cause him and Brittany are like, usually, totally on the same wavelength - "As I was saying, more importantly, I went to Rachel's stupid call-backs today."

"You do know you're going to have to eventually stop calling them stupid."

He waves her off, "Probably. But there was this absolute douchebag there – his name was Jamie or something, a _girls _name – that Rachel wouldn't stop fawning over. It was disgusting. I couldn't believe she'd be so...so..."

"Not in love with you?" Santana smirks.

Brittany gasps, "You and Rachel are together?"

He shoots her an impatient look, "No. And no. Why do I even bother with you two?"

"Ask myself the same question." Puck announces as he strolls in, Quinn not far behind him. Puck takes the other armchair, while Quinn sits beside Santana on the couch. Brittany is looking at them expectantly for an order.

"I'll have a blueberry muffin and some water, B."

"I'm good." Puck tells her, and then nods at Finn, "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Santana gets there before him, "Rachel."

His brows shoot up, "Ah. Literally? Cause if so, well done, man. 'Bout time,"

"No, Rachel would have called and told me," Quinn corrects, and then motions for Finn to talk.

"Look, I'm just -"

"A puppy in love." Brittany chirps, handing Quinn her order. It's what she asked for, and Brit receives an appraising look from her friend.

"No, I'm -"

"Hot for Berry." Puck smirks.

Santana decides to join in, "A longing loser for Rach."

"Oh, that's a good one," Puck comments. "Hard for 'cards' again with Rachel."

Quinn laughs, "Cards.. is this the metaphor we're using now?"

"Screw you guys." Finn grumbles, taking a sip of his 'disgusting' coffee.

"Well, the only person that would want to hear you whine about this is a professional and that's only because they're paid."

"Thanks, Santana." It sounds like a heartfelt reply. Finn did want their opinions though, but being the tools they are, they hadn't even let him get to the ins of the story. Which is that Rachel is falling for this arrogant star in theatre. What kind of guy makes theatre his living? Talk about stupid. What really annoys Finn is that he's good. Much better than Finn, who has a little experience in theatre from his high school days and directing as a teacher. He hates being beaten in his strengths – strengths being his voice and well, that's it. He's sure there's much more he's forgetting, but right now, his voice is the important one.

He's lost whatever his friends are talking about now, but finds that he doesn't care. It's been a taxing day and they never talk about anything of interest anyway. Just as that thought comes to him, Puck throws a piece of Quinn's muffin at him.

"Hey! I'll have to clean that!" Brittany objects, frowning. "Cleaning isn't for hot people."

"And you're wasting my food," Quinn adds.

"You could do with eating less, anyway," Finn watches as Quinn's face morphs from shock, to anger, to calm again.

"Noah Puckerman, you are very lucky that I need you tonight." The words are barely out of her mouth when she realises what she said. Puck has a satisfied smirk on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You _know _I meant I need a night out in your bar."

"Sure you did, Blondie. Finn, you coming tonight?"

"Well, -"

"No, that wasn't right. You don't have much of a choice, it was more a, what time you coming at tonight?"

Finn rolls his eyes, "Maybe I won't be there. Don't really fancy it... Besides, we all know you just want some groupies."

"Come on, he'll get the groupies from the underage girls." Santana replies candidly.

"Exactly. Just some moral support guys, too much to ask?"

"Don't even try play the victim, mister." Quinn laughs. "You can't pull it off."

"_You'll _be there, won't you?" He asks, eyeing her.

She nods, "Yeah, but I won't really be paying attention to you, my friend. I've got more entertaining and attractive things coming with me."

"Than me? I doubt that."

Brittany nods vigorously, "I do, too." Puck high-fives her, and Santana rolls her eyes this time. Finn wonders how he became friends with such a diverse group of people. Puck, the man-whore sexshark; Brittany, the stereotypical dumb blonde; Santana, the hot bitch; Quinn, the cold queen of mean. And they're just the ones present now. He's not quite sure where he fits in, but the thing is, is that he knows he does fit in. There's a sense of belonging with these people that he thinks he'll always have. They've been with him through thick and thin, and that means some incredibly tough times. They all have some sort of history.

He wonders what tonight will bring. Lately, all of them have been quite good in not crossing boundaries. "Who's going tonight, Puck?"

The man frowns for a moment, mentally counting up the people, "Out of those that I know... Quinn, whoever she's bringing, Hummel, Brit, Rachel, you, Mike.. That's it. San, go?"

"I told you I'm going to dinner. Don't fancy swapping that for bursting my eardrums."

"I'm good, and you know it. Just drop by after dinner? There'll be something in it for you," He winks.

"Been there, done that. Not that great." She flashes him a wide smile.

"Alright baby, if you wanna' play it that way. Let's not forget _whose _name you screamed one of the times... maybe it's an indicator _if _you really didn't enjoy it. Because, believe me, there's never been a girl not pleased with the Puckerman." No one fully understands what he's trying to say here, which pleases Santana who sends him a sickly sweet smile, but says nothing.

"_I _think he's organic, Santana." Brittany nods.

Quinn frowns, bemused, "Do you mean _orgasmic, _Brit?" she turns to Puck then, "And will you ever stop referring to yourself in third person? And Finn, cop on. So Rachel's infatuated – are you? If not, then shut up and move on. What's it to you anyway?"

He mutters something unintelligible, and Santana picks up on it, "What's that? Pining for wanky with Rachel?"

Finn knows Quinn's right. Why the hell is he acting like this? It's a combination of things, really. Not just the Rachel thing – he's stressed over the student in love with him, too. Not to mention how he's going to memorise lines if he gets a part in Rachel's production. Taking all of this into account, he still knows that his friend is right, and just laughs off Santana's comment. "Lopez, I've never met a woman who thinks more about sex than you."

She shrugs, "Women think about sex a lot, too. We're just not thick."

Finn nods in agreement for a moment. A beat, and then: "Hey!"

* * *

He had stayed a little longer than he should have in that coffee house – but that's him, always pushing boundaries and forgetting the time. Punctual is not in his vocabulary, and fashionably late is his middle name. Of course, Puck may have picked some of this up from his girl friends, but he had always been the late friend to everything. In High School, he and Quinn used to go to all events together because both of them were nearly guaranteed to be late. Granted, he's not a complete girl, she did usually take longer. And now, he's still ready before Lola. (Kurt.)

"Puckerman, you're gonna' need to look a little hotter to be on my stage," His boss, Lauren, tells him. She's something else, and that's something coming from him! She's overweight, not stunning like his other girl friends, but she's amazing. He's made out with her a few times, and always badgers her for a date, but she's turned him down so many times now that his pride is almost wounded. (It takes a lot to wound his pride. His ego can take hits and still stay inflated.) Somehow, she has an aura of incredible confidence which in turn is incredibly sexy. Tonight, she's donning horizontally striped grey and white leggings, a blue denim skirt, a pink top with a purple blazer over it. The blazer is to make her outfit more 'classy' she had said when he inquired. On her feet? A pair of cons.

Yeah, this woman speaks his language in many ways. He's pretty sure they'd never last long term (cause no one ever does – or rarely), but he'd sure as hell try. Or not. A one-night stand would do. She owns the bar he works in and manages it herself. Lauren's usually in every night, supervising and working the drinks, and is the one who asked him to perform. She's sang a couple of times, but not very much, and isn't that good. Let's face it, he's better.

At that thought, Puck's eyes flicker over to his guitar in the corner of the bar. "Whatever you say, Z. Puckzilla's always hot and ready."

Zizes. That's why he cleverly calls her 'Z'. "If you're willing to take that risk. Did you bring my bargain?"

_Weeelll, _he wasn't entirely honest when he said she asked him to perform. (He's not the most truthful person.) Actually, what had happened, went something like this: "Please, Z! Please? I'm on my knees here, help a dude out! Just one night, and if you're not completely blown away, never again. I'm hot and awesome, it's a deadly combination... Please, Lauren? Pleee-"

"Bring me a carton of cream eggs and two snicker bars and you've got yourself a deal. It'll be difficult, because they're not in season, but you try."

Being Puck, he did and he found them of course. He's a little bit amazing like that. Regardless of how it happened, he's here now and he's going to play for a bar full of people. He glances around. So, it's not quite _full _but there's about twenty people there and his friends haven't even arrived yet. Puck glances at his watch: 8:45. He's on in fifteen, so they better get here fast or he's gonna' have to ignore them for a while. He hates doing that because he's a heartfelt person, and it tends to torture them. He doesn't blame them – time without the Puckerman is difficult. He doesn't want to have to go to those lengths.

It's as he's pondering this that Finn, Mike and Kurt walk in, all laughing hysterically about something. It annoys him for some reason. They approach the bar, still laughing, and order their drinks. "About time losers. Was about to think you weren't coming."

"And miss this wonderful spectacle? Why, of course not, Puck. Besides, there's bound to be plenty of men here tonight."

"Penny, really?"

Kurt shrugs, "Why not."

Finn smiles brightly at him, "Nervous?"

Puck scoffs, "No. Puck doesn't get nervous."

Mike sits on the bar stool, "Seriously dude, you've got to stop referring to yourself in third person."

"You sound like Quinn." Puck grumbles, handing them their beer. Meaning, handing Mike and Finn their beers, and Kurt his appletini.

Finn pats Mike on the back, "And if he won't do it for Quinn, you've not got a chance, buddy."

"What's the supposed to mean?" Puck demands, "and what was so funny earlier?"

Mike chuckles, "It wasn't even that funny. Brittany locked herself in her room again,"

"Oh. She started performing spells again?"

"Yeah, but then she tried to escape by making a rope out of her sheets but it only reached the floor below us. And we all know how grumpy Mr. Sanders is!" Finn laughs.

Puck grins, "He's good fun. I-"

"Puck, you're on." Lauren interrupts, and then checks out his friends. She's met them many times before, but does this every time she see's them still. She winks at Finn – he thinks it's mostly to annoy him – and gestures for Puck to get a move on.

He gets his guitar and waits then for her to announce his arrival. As he's waiting, Quinn walks in with her latest beau, whose name he can't remember.

As fucking usual, she looks stunning and he hates it. (He doesn't really; he can't tear his eyes away. But either can the other men.) She's wearing tight, black jeans and black stiletto's with a low cut, tight red top. Her hair is curled lightly and she's wearing red lipstick that immediately draws his attention to her lips, which he _so _does not need. Forcing thoughts aside on how beautiful she is, he turns his head to the guy.

He's a douche. Puck can tell.

"Quinn, before we go further, you look amazing! Changing it up with the red lipstick, I see. I thought you'd never do it," Kurt grins, and Puck almost rolls his eyes.

She only smiles back and says lightly, "Oh,well, I thought I should change it up a little."

Finn finally snaps out of his daze and sends her a winning smile, "It suits you." Another douchebag. Why is he surrounded by them? Maybe he – or Quinn – attracts them.

"Thanks Finn," She looks surprised for some reason, and genuinely pleased.

"I told her she looked amazing earlier and she wouldn't believe me." Blondie with big lips speaks then, and Kurt laughs.

"That's Quinn for you! Changing her mind all the time, too."

"I'm Mike," He says, extending his hand to the male blond, "We've heard a lot about you. Not from Quinn of course, but Kurt."

Kurt blushes a little, "I spoke to you on the phone before."

Lippy chuckles genially, "I remember. Q couldn't stop apologising after.." _He_ calls her Q. Puck. (And their friends, but that doesn't matter). "I'm Sam. Sam, I am." Who the fuck is this guy?

"Finn Hudson, and my brother is Kurt."

Puck can't stand this niceness. Shouldn't they be seeing if the guy is good enough first? Quinn's a fucking weapon, she deserves a stand-up guy. This guy? Well, his mouth isn't even proportion with the rest of him. And what the _fuck _is with the Bieber cut?

"Seriously dude," Puck begins, ignoring Quinn's warning glare, "How many tennis balls can you fit in your mouth?"

Blondie only looks at him, "I can't say I've ever had any balls in my mouth. Have you?"

Quinn and Finn laugh outright, and Puck flounders a little. This doesn't happen to him! No one ever actually speaks back. So he tries to deflect. "That's more Petunia's area."

"Puck!" Kurt objects, slapping him. He's such a girl.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our mediocre barman with a guitar that I hope he knows how to use – Noah Puckerman!" Lauren presents him, and he strolls onto the stage. He nods to his friends and smiles, wanting to be perceived right. He doesn't have stage fright. (but by god does he fear rejection.)

Lauren sits down next to his friends, "I forgot his first name for a second there."

"It didn't show," Quinn replies nicely, but Lauren ignores her. Lauren's never liked her and Puck never knew why. Well, aside from the fact Quinn's a bit of a bitch – but she's never been to Lauren.

He starts off upbeat, and goes with 'Stereo Hearts'. It's an acoustic version so slightly different, but he pulls it off, "_My Hearts a stereo,  
it beats for you so listen close,  
Hear my thoughts in every no-o-te.  
Make me your radio,  
and turn me up when you feel low.  
This melody was meant for you,  
so sing along to my stereo,_" People sing it with him, which gives him that small boost he needs.

He notices Rachel and Brittany slip in late, but doesn't mind – they came, and that's what's important. He's not offended in the slightest.

* * *

Quinn turns away from Puck for a moment, choosing to focus on her date. She thinks that's what he should be called, anyway. He's not her boyfriend _yet, _but she reckons it could be on the cards. She nudges him gently from her seat on the stool – he's standing – and lifts her chin, gesturing for a kiss. He complies happily, but they don't start 'making-out' or anything, because she generally doesn't do PDA. As they separate, she leans back against him and he wraps his arms around her.

She feels cherished, warm and safe in his arms. Quinn hasn't felt anyway like this towards a man in god knows how long (she knows exactly how long) and holds him that little bit tighter at the thought.

Rachel and Brittany arrive then, and there's a whole host of hello's. She introduces Sam to them, and both are perfectly nice. Brittany asks him how he does his hair like that, completely serious, but otherwise it's fine. She had warned him about Brittany anyway.

Rachel turns to Finn, "Something I simply have to discuss with you Finn, and I really hope you agree. Then again, maybe you did some male bonding during waiting time that I'm not aware of. Keep your competition close and all that. We are usually in sync with character judgements though, and so I was hoping you'd-"

"Rachel, I can only agree or disagree once I know what the hell you're talking about."

"Jesse, for gods sake!" She exclaims, seemingly thinking he should have known that.

Finn's face lights up, "You hate him, too?"

"Hate's a strong word, but I really don't like him." She replies with a frown – just thinking about him makes her frown! She and Finn separate into their own conversation as the others talk, going in depth as to what is annoying and irritating about the man known as Jesse St. James. Rachel knows it's wrong as a professional, but damn it, Finn is her best friend and the only one who knows him. (There's Brittany. But she _likes _him for some reason.)

* * *

"So, what's Puck's deal?" Sam asks Kurt and Quinn as a chat between them finishes.

Kurt hesitates before throwing it back to Quinn, "You didn't tell him about Puck?"

She wishes he hadn't said that. Had it been really necessary to say that? no. Just Kurt and his big mouth. With one look, she makes it clear she's not happy with him, and scrambles to find something to say to Sam, who's waiting patiently, "We.. We have a history, is all."

Kurt raises an eyebrow, puzzled, "It's a lot-"

"A history." Quinn repeats. Kurt finally gets the message and sinks back against his chair, silenced.

Sam nods, "I see. A jealous ex-boyfriend is to be contended with!"

Quinn genuinely laughs, "Jealous? God, no. Puck and I are long over, and it's both just platonic. No worries there, Sammy."

He pulls a face, "Sammy? Quinn," He whines, "I thought we agreed not to call me that."

"No, you agreed. I never said yes." Her smirk is devilish, and Sam can't help but swoop down and steal a kiss. When he's finished, he sends Kurt an apologetic look, "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"I don't blame you, my friend. If I were straight, I'd have snapped her up a long time ago!"

Quinn waves him off, and then something strikes her, "Hey, where's Mike, guys?"

Finn and Rachel stop talking for a moment and glance around. Both shrug, which makes them laugh, and declare that they don't know. Finn then remembers: "I think he took a call."

"Oh, okay. He often just disappears on nights out," Quinn explains.

Sam nods, "There's always a friend like that!" As Puck begins singing Mike Posners 'Cooler Than Me', Santana comes in with her 'boy', Blaine. Blaine, no surprises, is bright, friendly and warm as usual. He immediately introduces himself to Sam, and they begin chatting. They're from the same city coincidentally, and so talk excessively about it.

Santana nods to Quinn, "He's hot. If not a bit of a trouty mouth."

Kurt can't help but let a snort of laughter escape him, "Trouty mouth – that's brilliant!"

"How many times have I told you of my brilliance?" Santana counters jokingly.

Another round of drinks are bought, which has to be about the fifth round. Puck is winding down now, and all of his friends are a little drunk and cheering loudly at the end of each song. He's not complaining, because all the cheering looks good for him. Maybe Lauren will let him perform again. She let him on for longer than he was supposed to be on tonight. Granted, it's on his own time, but still.

His last song is one of his favourite's, and he calls everyone's attention as he starts, "So, this is my last track, guys. I know, it's awfully sad. But we should all request for Puck again to Lauren! For my last song, I'm gonna' sing one that I go way back with. It's been one of my favourites for years and I hope you all enjoy it. You've been a great audience, so thank you and have a killer night!"

Cheers all around. He begins as it dies down: "_Hey, where did we go?_" He plays softly, feeling the song with every inch of his being. He stands and opens his eyes, finding his friends in the corner.

"_Days when the rain came.  
Down in the hallow,  
Playin' a new game,  
Laughing' and runnin' – hey, hey,  
Skippin' and a jumpin'._

_In the misty morning fog with  
Our hearts thumpin' and you  
My brown eyed girl,_

_you, my brown eyed girl."_

Rachel loves this song, and Puck knows that. She smiles up at him widely, believing it to be dedicated to her and the rest of his friends – after all Her, Santana, Quinn, Finn and Mike all have brown eyes. Quinn's are more hazel, but she tends to alternate between saying she has green or brown eyes.

It used to be brown, now she says green. Rachel doesn't bother arguing the hazel point anymore.

"_Do you remember when we used to sing:_

_sha la la la la la la la la la la te da.." _Santana, Rachel and Brittany sing along loudly while Finn does so more quietly. The whole bar is listening and singing, and Rachel thinks is just as much a testimony to the song as to Puck's musical ability. She glances back to see if Quinn is singing as it's one of her favourite's as well, but see's that the girl went to get a drink. She also see's Sam go to follow her.

"_So hard to find my way,  
Now that I'm all on my own.  
Saw you just the other day,  
My – how you have grown!_

_Cast my memory back there, Lord,  
Sometimes I'm overcome thinking about,  
Making love in the green grass  
Behind the stadium with you,  
My Brown eyed girl._

_You, my brown eyed girl._"

He's often overcome thinking about everything. At the end, his eyes return once again to his friends and they're all cheering madly. He grins at them and bows swiftly before exiting the stage.

* * *

"Quinn! Quinn, wait up, what are you doing?"

She's not listening to him, and so he pulls her back by the arm, "Don't you like the song? It's a _classic," _He tells her, as if she's insane.

Quinn looks at him irritably, "I know that." she snaps. Sam flinches slightly, and guilt immediately hits her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. I just – that song is so overplayed. It used to be my favourite, but now – now it's just a broken record," she looks lost in thought for a moment, before finally realising where she is and laughing nervously, "So I came to get a drink. Want one?"

Before he can respond, she's calling over Lauren, "Two shots of tequila."

"But I don't dri-"

"It's just a shot, Sam," She looks up at him pleadingly, and there's something in her voice that makes him nod. He has some feeling that she needs him, and he's not about to turn her away. He's been drawn to her since that very first moment in her workplace, and hasn't looked back since. He thinks he might love her, but is terrified of scaring her, so he says nothing.

She pays Lauren, and clinks her shot glass with his. As she's knocking back the drink, Sam notices something on her hand. How could he not have noticed it before? Is he blind?

There's a tattoo on the side of her hand. It's in pretty, black, cursive writing and only a single word. After swallowing the burning poison that is tequila, he grabs her hand.

_Beth._

"Who's Beth?" He questions softly. Her eyes, wide, dart to his and she retracts her arm quickly.

* * *

Kurt is having quite a nice night. Besides the fact that not only have Quinn and Sam disappeared, but also Puck, Rachel and Finn have developed their own conversation and he's left with Brittany, Santana and Blaine. Normally, that'd be fine, but for some reason, he feels there's a tension with Santana that she doesn't often carry. He has an urge to ask her, but knows better than to try to talk to her about feelings in public. Hell, it's hard to talk to Santana about feelings in private, never mind in front of people.

Blaine is telling them a funny joke from work, but Kurt can't quite concentrate. He knows he shouldn't. He knows it's wrong. But he just can't help himself – he's absolutely enraptured by the man known as Blaine Anderson. He's just the package. Blaine _is _the package. He's perfect in Kurt's eyes, and he fancies the pants off of him.

That thought sparks some dirtier ones that Kurt has to instantly shake off. Santana and Brittany laugh loudly, but he suspects Brittany doesn't actually get the joke and is just laughing because Santana is.

Blaine is smiling, and Kurt sighs happily. His perfect, white, dazzling teeth that are oh-so perfectly aligned light up the room and his charismatic and charming demeanor carry a conversation through the most tense of moments. His dress sense is a little wacky – skinny jeans, polo shirt and a bow tie – but Kurt can completely overlook that.

The only flaw in all of Blaine Anderson is the fact that he's completely straight, and with Santana Lopez. A woman most-sought after; drop-dead gorgeous, amazing in bed (apparently) and seemingly normal with him. They make one of the most gorgeous straight couples around. Which makes him want to gag. Why does he always go for the straight ones?

"Kurt?" Blaine nudges him, and is suddenly very close as he shakes him. His beautiful brown eyes are gazing into Kurts. He's speechless for a second. "Kurt, where did you go there? The girls are gone to the bathroom."

"Oh. Sorry, just daydreaming." (About you) "What were we talking about?"

"I was just laughing about the life of a lawyer. So, you're still in school?"

"College," Kurt corrects with a forced smile (he hates when people assume he's a kid), "I went back after a degree in music. I don't know what to do with my life, and so going back to college seemed a good option."

"Seemed?" Blaine asks, interested.

"Well, I can barely pay rent," Kurt laughs, making a joke out of it.

Blaine nods, "I'm sure once you graduate again, things will get going and you'll be drowning in money!"

"Now there's a way I wouldn't mind dying."

"How wonderfully morbid," Blaine jokes. "Besides, you live with your brother. I'm sure he cuts you some slack?"

"Oh, he does. But we also live with Puck! That man does not like waiting on people. Which is ironic, because we always have to wait on him."

"He seems like a funny, nice guy though. I like him." Something about Blaine's tone makes Kurt stop, but he puts it aside.

"Yeah, the big secret that he doesn't want you to know? He's a nice guy. Don't tell him you heard it from me though!" They both chuckle, and a comfortable silence settles. Kurt has been out with Blaine several times now, as he often comes out with Santana. Even so, he can't believe how utterly comfortable he feels around him. It's like he's known Blaine his whole life.

He suspects that's how Blaine makes everyone feel – welcome, warm, secure. It's no wonder this is the one Santana chose to actually give him the time of day.

Blaine surprises him then by saying softly, "It must be difficult."

It's strange. He doesn't specify what he's talking about or referring to, but Kurt understands exactly what he's saying. He nods, sure there's a disgusting amount of longing in his eyes, "It is."

The other man places a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry." Kurt's not sure why he would be saying sorry, but accepts this anyway. It's the only apology he'll ever get.

* * *

Brittany dries her hands leisurely, watching the water dissipate before her eyes. She finds it strangely entertaining, and calls out to Santana who is washing her hands still, "Why did you ask me to the toilet? I didn't have to go all that bad."

Santana flicks her hands and shakes them over the sink to dry them off. Brittany continues to talk, "Although, in hindsight, it's probably a good idea I did go. Could have had a run while pulling trousers down incident like last time. Anyway, is everyth-"

Her rambling, which she often does, is cut off as Santana grabs her hand and pulls her towards her. Blue eyes clash with deep brown for a minute, and then Santana crushes her lips to Brittany's. There's a passionate fury to the kiss that Brittany doesn't understand, but lets herself get lost in nonetheless. It's always this way. In the darkness of alleyways, in the privacy of their bedroom or a desolate bathroom or corridor. She's wanted more in the past, but now, she knows this is what she must settle for.

Santana pushes her back, until Brittany is sitting on the counter, with her friend in between her legs. Hands roam; Santana's are more urgent, more desperate, whereas Brittany's are slow and languid, enjoying her movements. Brittany's hands slip into Santana's hair as their tongues entwine, doing a dance that they're so familiar with, and Santana groans. Brittany bites her lip a little, trying to remind her where they are, but Santana only lets out a little moan.

She pulls back then, breathing heavily, hair mussed and pupils dilated so that her eyes are dark, darker than normal. Brittany recognises the look she's giving her, and Santana growls, "Don't look at me that way, B. I have to have you.. I—I _need _you Brittany. Tonight." There's a desperation that Brittany's not quite familiar with Santana, a vulnerability to her that makes it seem like she's pleading with her.

Either way, she isn't about to refuse, and allows Santana to quickly lead her out the back door to get a taxi. She knows they'll go home to their room, and what will happen from there. Neither of them remember Blaine, or their friends. (But then again, they never do.)

* * *

That's all for now folks! Thanks to those reviewing, I'd really love a few more though :D haha.. Also, don't forget about the poll on my page if you want to vote on endgame. You'll also notice I've changed the fic name back to "Friends", simply because the longer title annoyed me. Although I still don't like this title. How and ever!

Onto my disclaimers, there are quite a few... Don't own Friends or Glee first off - bet that surprised you - nor do I own "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison or "Stereo Hearts" by Gym Class Heroes. Also don't own chapter title "Nine Crimes" by Damien Rice.

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!  
CN


	8. The One With The Revelations

Chapter Eight: The One With Revelations.

_viii: Kiss Me Like You Wanna Be Loved._

They decide to go his house – well, Quinn does – because she's not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. He doesn't know what's caused the drastic change in mood, and it freaks him out a little, but he pushes that aside. It's a tense and silent taxi ride back to his flat, which is spent with Quinn staring out the window and him counting the minutes as they pass. He swears minutes have never been this long. Even the queue for Avatar 3D hadn't been this long.

Or the latest Spiderman. Which, if you were wondering, disappointed him greatly.

He chances a glance at her, and instantly his heart sinks a little. She looks troubled and – and _nervous, _if you could believe. He wants her to know she has nothing to be nervous about. What's the worse that Beth could mean? His mind immediately throws out scenario's such as: the first person she killed, her secret lover, the person she intends to kill, etc.

Sam doesn't think she's a murderer or lesbian though (not with the way she kisses) and gently places his hand over hers, trying to assure her that he's not here to judge. Because he's not, and he doesn't judge people off the bat – Sam knows what it's like to be unpopular, or prejudiced against. He wasn't always the stud he is today. Even with that, he's not always confident as a 'stud' and is frequently surprised when girls show interest.

He and Quinn have only been dating a couple of weeks, but he already knows that he wants it to last longer, and is holding onto whatever they have now tonight.

The taxi finally pulls up beside his house, and he pays him accordingly. Still holding her hand, he gets out and she climbs out his door after him. He gives her a genuine smile, and she manages a small one back. Even that little, weak smile sends ripples through his body and makes his heart pound.

It's not until they're both sitting on his couch with a glass of red wine in their hands that she speaks. She looks weary, unlike when they started out the night. Her blonde hair is still curling at the ends neatly, glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner, and her top still clings to her in ways that drives him more than slightly crazy – but she looks different, somehow. Her beautiful hazel eyes that he can't seem to get enough of? They're sad. There's many other words, but the one that seems to pin exactly – no theatrics or elaborate descriptions – is simply sad.

"It's my first tattoo," Her voice is raspy. He nods, wondering briefly if she wants him to reply. She answers it for him by continuing, "I got it for my eighteenth birthday. I was drunk, giddy and looking for adventure and something rebellious." She smiles briefly, lost in memories. Her eyes finally meet his, "I'm not going to lie to you, Sam, the people behind this tattoo... They mean a lot to me."

Again, he nods wordlessly, squeezing her hand slightly. He doesn't understand what's so big that she's looking so grave – most men would run for the hills at this point. Hazel eyes turn to her hands, "And you have to know, I normally lie to men when they ask me about Beth. I rattle off something about the song, and my parents singing it to me when I was young."

She pauses, gazing at him, "That's not true at all... The truth is, B—Beth, she's.. she's..." Quinn swallows heavily, and then says softly, "She's my daughter."

Without even realising, he lets go of her hands and leans back into the couch. Someone releases a long, laboured sigh and he notices with a start that it was him. Her daughter? He's been to her apartment plenty of times, and there's never been a child.. Unless she's not around.

Sam's blue eyes widen, what if she died? He would be the biggest jerk around for his reaction. He takes her hand again, squeezing it lightly once more.

"I fell pregnant at fifteen... I knew I couldn't give her the life she deserved, and so when the time came, I gave her up for adoption."

It takes him a moment to process the information, and he feels relieved. This could have been much worse. He turns back to Quinn, and there's a pang in his chest when he see's her melancholy, broken expression, pleading with him to tell her all is okay.

He cups her face with his free hand, "I'm sorry you had to carry that around as a secret, Quinn."

They're whispering for reasons neither of them quite know.

There's tears in her eyes suddenly, "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you Sam, I just.. I just.. I love her _so _much," There's a sob, and she's in his arms, clutching for dear life. "I can't always talk about her."

"Shh, shh. Don't apologise." He brings her back so he can look into her eyes, "You are beautiful, Quinn. But outside _and _inside. And I think you're incredibly brave and selfless to do that for your daughter, regardless of the pain caused to you."

She laughs shakily, wiping her eyes, "I'm such a mess." She sniffs, eyes moving back to his, "And you're kind of amazing, you know that?"

He grins broadly, "Of course I do. Thing is, you're about ten times more amazing.. and I hope you don't realise that and find someone better."

Quinn doesn't respond immediately, and just stares at him. He begins to worry that he started joking too early – although he had been telling the truth. His worries are eradicated, however, when she pounces on him. She kisses him softly and lovingly, with much more emotion than he's ever gotten from her. He grabs her waist and pulls her tighter, sliding down the couch until he's lying with her on top of him. Tongue's meet slowly and romantically, and he feels more attached to her than he ever has, too. She usually maintains a distance – but not tonight.

Her hand travels up his top, as his rake up and down her legs. He's so overcome that he can't stop what slips out next: "God, Quinn, I think I love you."

What happens next is quite amazing. She pauses, sits back on him and says nothing as seconds pass. Sam's starting to get anxious. Quinn tears off his shirt then, and takes hers off, too. Her kisses are passionate, loving and rough now, and he finds it just as enjoyable as the slower kisses.

That night is the first time they sleep together. He kisses each and every one of her stretch marks whilst telling her repeatedly that she is beautiful – because she is, and he truly, honest to god believes it from the bottom of his heart.

(Sam Evans, is _not_ the type to lie.)

* * *

She's begun walking to the theatre everyday, meeting Brittany and Artie down there. Yes, she calls him Artie now – he had insisted. Walking to work makes her feel like she's healthy and fit, which most of the time, isn't wholly true. Rachel eats far too much chocolate than is necessary, and often misses out on her daily exercise lately with all that is going on.

Well. Perhaps that is an awful excuse, she admits.

Things are actually going quite well for Rachel (besides the burning longing to be in a relationship again) and her friends, too. Quinn's been _singing _lately all the time in the apartment, Santana's stopped glaring at Rachel for being perky in the morning (and she's been doing that years) and Brittany.. Brittany doesn't really count, because she has always been quite happy.

As for the males, Puck is still on top form since his performance last week, Finn – despite himself – is _enjoying _the musical while Mike and Kurt? Rachel can't figure out what is up with them. Kurt seems to be pining one minute for something she's not sure of, and then happy and buzzing the next. Mike's preoccupied all the time, but he's never been that talkative anyway.

She stops at the theatre and exhales happily, ready for the day. She glances at her watch and notices that she's over a half hour early, but doesn't mind. Rachel hates being late for anything. It's another day of call-backs – the last – and she can't wait to see what everyone brings to the table.

(But she'll lie and say she doesn't care what Jesse has to sing.)

She glances around to ensure the emptiness of the place, and then steps onto the stage. Inhaling deeply, she acknowledges how much she has missed performing. Missed standing on that stage, waiting in anticipation for that special moment to shine. The adrenaline and buzz that rushes through your system.

Oh, how she misses it.

She begins a slow acapella, "_Hello, is it me you're looking for?"_

When it finishes, she remains standing centre stage for that moment longer, eyes closed and stance defined. It's then that there's a slow, loud and close clapping of a single individual. Rachel's eyes snap open quickly, darting to the sound. Her brows immediately furrow as she see's Jesse St. James standing at the side of the stage, eyes glued to her. Except he doesn't look mocking or egotistical, but impressed and open.

He nods, "That was impressive. Of course, I already knew you could sing... Rachel Berry with the amazing voice and good acting skills who could never quite reach the Broadway bar. Sad, no?"

She scowls. "Jesse St. James.. good voice with great acting skills who could never quite reach the Broadway bar. It works both ways, St. James."

"Call me Jesse, please. I know we're on a formal basis, but even so. I have a question though," he begins, strolling over to her, his gaze powerful, "Why'd you give up?"

Rachel bristles a little, "I did not give up!"

"Yet, here you are, producing a musical and not starring. Stuck in a low-budget theatre and having no real direction."

"I have direction!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, "I pegged you as a winner, not a quitter."

"What are _you _doing here, then? Being so high and mighty with your 'quitter' and 'giving up' lectures, why are you here? Shouldn't you be chasing your dreams?" she spits, venom laced in her words.

He's standing next to her on the stage now, but no longer looking at her. Jesse's eyes are directed upon the seats, as if they were all full, and surveying the crowd. "Maybe I am. I still am. I just do projects in between. What's more important than keeping that dream alive?" He questions, and for once in her life, Rachel Berry is speechless. He smirks, "Besides, how can anyone help but be intrigued by the wonderwoman that is Rachel Berry?"

Before she can utter any type of response, whether indignant or flattered, he takes a step back, "I better go practice. Take it from someone who understands what Broadway means, don't give up on it." He's walking away, his back to her, when he calls out, "It would be an awful shame."

Her first reaction is complete shock at his words, and how right he is in some ways. It doesn't take long for anger to follow though – who does he think he is? No one _ever _talks to a producer like that. She obviously hasn't got enough authority around these parts if he thinks that's okay. She could rule him out based on this alone, but knows his talent is valuable... So does he. That's the problem really, isn't it?

But how _dare _he. Who is Jesse St. James, some inflated wannabe star, to say that she has given up on her dreams? Rachel took a hiatus, that's all. She'll be back to auditioning every weekend someday soon. Once she has this experience under her belt, she plans on belting out every musical tune known at every audition available.

Who is he to say she's a talent wasted.

(She's angry because it's true. She's hurt because none of her friends have said it or perhaps even noticed in the last year when she's done zero auditions.)

* * *

It's four hours later, and Rachel is sitting in between Brittany and Artie, scanning a list of names that are beginning to make no sense. She knows who she wants for each part, but there are problems between them. For instance, Artie wants Mercedes Jones for Joanne, whereas Rachel wants her for Maureen and Brittany is undecided. Mercedes perhaps looks like the part for Joanne, but she sure as hell has the bite of Maureen. The diva-like confidence and swagger that is Maureen is ever present in Mercedes. Even with that decision to be made, both of her co-workers are fans of Jesse and want him for Roger. She argues Finn for Roger.

Then there's the part of Mimi. Essentially, they have no Mimi. The actresses for that part didn't do her justice, and it is important to Rachel to have every part up to par. She doesn't have room for imperfections, doesn't have time to 'work on it' and doesn't have the patience for pitch.

"The only actress even nearly suiting the part ... I don't think we can afford her," Artie appears perplexed and troubled.

Brittany nods, "We can't afford her. It's a tight budget. As much as the actors love their job, they're going to want to be paid. She wants too much."

"What can we do though?" Rachel argues, "We've literally no one else for the job."

A silence settles around them as everyone thinks hard. Brittany knows that they're running short on money, that Rachel's bank balance is rapidly depleting and yet, they can't come to any decision on this. She personally doesn't even like that girl for Mimi, but Artie speaks the truth – there is no one else. She glances up at the other two, mind working at lightning speed. Artie is going through the names still, thinking back to each one and writing comments. Rachel is humming 'Living in America' quietly, staring at the stage pensively.

A thought strikes Brittany then. She is a _genius. _"Rach, why don't you just play Mimi?"

Rachel snorts a little, then pats her hand, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brit, but that's not really common practice. I mean, I-"

"Why not? You can sing, you can act. Actually, you're kind of great at those things. I'm better at dancing obviously, but you're great at those. We need great for this or it's going to suck."

Artie's nodding then, and Brittany knows from Rachel's expression that she thinks they've gone mad, "I've heard you're amazing. Why don't you give us an audition? Because let's be honest, we've got no other option." Rachel doesn't respond, and Artie nudges her, "You are meant to be on the stage, not up here. It's time to get back up. Once I see if you're adequate for the role, you may get it."

She smirks then, "Adequate? Oh, honey, you aint seen nothing yet."

Rachel leaves to quickly prepare a song, and Brittany turns to Artie, "She could be exactly what we need!"

"Could. We don't know if she's the Mimi type. Can Rachel be sexy? Remember the role requires pole dancing at one stage. I'm just not that sure if she's capable of that acting.."

Brittany frowns, "I didn't know poles could dance. Why would that interfere with Rachel?"

He pauses, still sometimes taken aback by Brittany, "Dancing with the pole. On the pole. You know, like strippers in a club."

Realisation dawns, "Oh. You should have just said stripper. Sure she can do that... She's an actress." Artie supposes he can't fault her there. "She's just not as good as me at the stripper dancing. You should come see sometime," Brittany winks.

Artie wonders just how unprofessional all of them can become by the end of this. (Part of him says to hell with unprofessionalism, Brittany is one hell of a woman.)

* * *

He's begun to consider college as boring. Now, never one to be misconstrued, he doesn't mean that as a way of saying he hates his course. Au contraire, Kurt was born to do a fashion course, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wander from time to time. Especially with certain lecturers, it's often hard to remain focused. Lila Bramble is the worst.

He's been feeling lost lately anyhow. It's what he reflects on during class time, when he should be listening. Kurt's just not sure what he wants to do with his life – he's 24, he should have some sort of idea. Right? He _wants _to have an idea. He wants to know instinctively what he's meant for.

That's just his professional life. What about personal? What about love? Is he destined to wander the planet, searching, for all of eternity? Is he doomed to that kind of life?

No matter where he goes, or who he meets, the connection – it isn't there. He sighs; this is all true, with the exception of Blaine. That boy enthrals him like no other. By god, it's wrong - so, so wrong, but Kurt can't stop himself. When he's not thinking of his doomed personal and professional life, he's thinking about Blaine and how his heart is doomed to break. What if he and Santana actually _last? _It's absolutely crazy, but they seem to get along like a house on fire.

His face twists into a scowl.

It's then that Kurt is quickly called from his thoughts as someone begins to talk about running for class rep. His friend from college, Sebastian, turns and hits him, "You should so run! You'd be brilliant!"

His first reaction is to scoff – and then he realises, he _would _be brilliant. A smirk. A glance around. He raises his hand. _This _is what he needs in both his professional and personal life. A goal and glory.

* * *

His journey home is filled with excitement and plans of how to win. Kurt is fairly popular among those in his course, but there are quite a few he bangs heads with. Their fault, of course. He can't help it if his fashion expertise outdoes theirs. Either way, he has to find a way to combat the stigma that has been attached to his name by these few individuals. He must win.

If he wins, he'd be in charge of organising class nights out and making sure all students rights are met within his course. Human rights have always been something Kurt's been interested in – ever since he was in school, he's been keenly aware of people's rights and responsibilities. Perhaps this is due to the tough time he had in high school, and all of the prejudices that come with being homosexual. He still finds prejudice and ignorance in the corners of his classroom – of course, fashion being what it is, it's not very often.

He's never felt more accepted than in the fashion world – even music couldn't give him what fashion does. It's something he's somewhat (eternally) grateful for.

Kurt enters his apartment still hyped up on his plans for class rep. As he walks in the door, he see's Puck and Finn sitting in front of the TV, loudly exclaiming over the happenings in Jersey Shore. He rolls his eyes. (Even though he adores the drama and scandalous nature of the show.)

Dropping his bag on the counter, he marches up to the tv and plonks himself in front of it. Hands planted on hips, he waits for the reaction.

"You're not a window, Doreen."

Finn nods, "Yeah, what are you doing? Snooki was just about to give it to Mike!"

"Don't know why. He's a complete tool."

"If girls didn't go for that kind of thing, you'd be out of luck, Noah." Kurt replies, and then claps his hands together, "Anyway, I've something to tell you!"

They glance at each other, and then lean forward slightly expectantly. Maybe he won the lotto or something equally exciting. Puck thinks it better be exciting for the shit he's missing.

"I'm running for class rep!" He announces, his face alight with anticipation. Finn and Puck exchange a look and both groan in disappointment.

"Get out of the way of the tv."

"That was a let-down, bro." Finn tells him, and then gestures for him to move over. Kurt stomps his foot a little, beyond annoyed at their childish and awful reactions. Why did he expect anything less from them? They would hardly understand the importance of running. They have the maturity of a child, and Kurt would know, he has to live with them.

Another thing on his to-do list: move out. (He's nearly made that one, but is lacking the courage to tell any of his friends. He's even seen an apartment downtown he wants.)

Marching over to the girls apartment, Kurt breezes through the door, intent on getting some help and excitement. He needs someone to brainstorm. Quinn and Santana are glued to the tv – also watching Jersey shore, though both of them exclaim that it's rubbish – and Rachel is counting money at the table. Brittany is nowhere in sight.

Rachel glances up first, "Hey Kurt."

"Rachel, my lovely Rachel. Guess what?"

She puts her money away, knowing this is the end of her alone time for now. As she finishes, she links her hands together on the table and studies him. Before she can say something, Santana shouts out from her seat on the couch, "Is it something to do with the fact that you're having a ridiculously early mid-life crisis, which very nearly puts you above Rachel in the crazy stakes?"

He glares, but then concedes, "A little. I'm running for class rep!"

There it is, the reaction he wanted. Rachel claps her hands excitedly, her face lighting up with a giant smile, "That's wonderful, Kurt! Of course, there's a lot of preparation that will have to go with it: facebook pages, campaign slogans, policies. All of that has to be ironed out so that you've not a crack in your campaign, and then you're-"

"Don't forget some dirt on the other runners," Quinn tells him, turning around on the couch to look at him. He notices the ads are on tv.

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Not entirely necessary." She pauses, and then adds, "But it doesn't hurt if you have any. Have you thought about any of these things?"

"Well, I only decided about an hour ago. But, yes. So you'll be my campaign manager?"

Her face falls, and she adopts a guilty look, "I'm sorry Kurt, but I've a lot going on at the moment. I've a 21st birthday coming up to organise, in addition to working the theatre and keeping on top of things there. I'm playing Mimi!" She tells him, her voice rising an octave with the glee.

His eyes widen in genuine surprise, "Wow, that's great. I guess I'll have to find another campaign manager though..." He trails off, eyes sliding towards those at the tv.

"Pass." Santana states simply, eyes not leaving MTV.

Quinn snorts, "I'm not being your second-choice. Besides, I've stuff to do." She turns around to Kurt once more then, a smirk adorning her beautiful face, "Ask Brittany."

Feeling indignant and a challenge in those words, he stands, "Fine, I will. I'm sure she'll be better than you guys anyway." He falters, "Where is she?"

"Trying to catch a mouse to feed to her cat back home." Santana tells him dryly, and Quinn's smirk widens. She says nothing though and turns back around as the show returns.

Kurt feels a sinking sensation in his stomach, but sets his resolve and goes to find Brittany.

(She's eager to help because she's a kind and loving soul. Part of him wishes she refused like the others.)

* * *

Hey all! Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, you really make it even more worthwhile and encourage me to write. As usual, I don't own Glee or Friends. Also don't own Ed Sheeran's "Kiss Me" which is the title, and a brilliant song, and I ALSO do not know hello... by Mr. Richie. Thanks and welcome to my new anon reader also, captaincrunch, who really renewed my love for this story! However, I'm still not getting a lot of reviews :( Please don't make me beg people... In any case, I'll u[date again tomorrow or Friday. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews would be pretty amazeballs. Thanks,  
CN


	9. The One That Mike Sings In

Chapter Nine: The One That Mike Sings In.

_ix: She's frequently kind, and suddenly cruel. She can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool._

There's not a stir in the house this morning, and she's immensely thankful. She figures Rachel keeps track and tells the others. Quinn's reminded once again of what a good friend Rachel really is, and why she's proud to call her her best friend. They've all been gone a few hours, but will be gone for a few more. It's Saturday and they find ways to busy themselves easily. Quinn, on the other hand, has been sitting in the same place for a few hours now, staring blankly. She's afraid to open it, and yet, she's dying to.

Part of her feels that if she opens it, her illusion that Beth is just on vacation is shattered. However, it also lets her know how her precious little girl is doing and lets her see just how alike Beth is to her parents. Quinn fingers the letter delicately, tracing her name on the cover three times before finally coming to the conclusion that she's known all along; she can't do this alone. She never has been able to, so why she thought this time would be different is beyond her.

(It's because of Sam. She thought it would be easier because at the end of the day, she has Sam, and that thought alone should give her the courage. It doesn't.)

Against herself, Quinn picks the letter up and puts into the back pocket of her jeans. Smoothening her hair out lightly, she strolls over to the boys apartment. She's sure Finn will be there. Opening the door, she smiles seeing Finn at the counter. "Hey."

He nods but continues shoveling cereal into his mouth. "Hmmphy."

"I asked for the news, not the weather," She grumbles, flicking Lucky Charms off of her lemon tank top. Wrinkling her nose, she sits down opposite him. "What are you doing today?"

He shrugs, "Have Glee practice on Saturdays. Want to win this year." She's thankful the cereal is gone. "Then meeting with Rachel later on... She's shopping now. Even though she can't quite afford it."

"That's not our place to judge," Quinn chides, annoyed at Finn. "She can splurge on herself if she wants. What time is Glee at?"

"Two." He replies casually, unperturbed by the pending time. It's quarter to two, Quinn notes. "Is everything okay?" He asks her, concerned.

She smiles. Finn is such a caring and sweet guy – she doesn't know why he hasn't been snapped up yet, "I'm fine," Quinn tells him softly, looking him in the eyes. "But don't you have to go? Fifteen minutes to make it, Finn."

"Fifteen?" He repeats in disbelief, "Damn, I better go! I'm never late." he exclaims, more to himself than to her.

Quinn watches in amusement as he rushes around the apartment gathering his things. He waves goodbye then and scurries out the door, the sound of it shutting echoing around her. She wonders what she's doing here really. Did she not say she wanted someone to do this with? Frowning, she finally accepts the disappointment she felt walking in here to find Finn. That's not who she wanted.

Resigning herself, she walks to the boys phone and dials the familiar number. The wait for him to pick up seems to drag on until at last she hears his deep, smooth tone, "You got me."

"Puck?" Her voice is shakier than she would like, and Quinn is instantly irritated with herself.

He picks up on it. "Quinn? Is everything okay?"

"C—can you come over? I...I-"

"A letter? I wish you'd told me. I thought it was coming tomorrow... you know I would have been there if you said."

"I know." There's nothing more to say.

"I'm leaving now." The phone call ends, and Quinn returns to her own apartment, debating with herself about whether she has done the right thing. She swore after last month that she'd stop asking Puck over when she gets the letter, especially since she has Sam now.

Instead, she rang Puck in work, and asked him to leave for her. It's not right but she'll reconcile herself with that later. For now, she just needs comfort. (Puck's been that comfort for far too long. She could have rang Sam. Should have rang Sam.)

Her mobile tone calls out, and with a quick check Quinn notes it's her boyfriend (but ignores it). Yes, they've made it official with a romantic dinner and night of great sex. It's been a week and she's loving it – it's been far too long since Quinn felt cherished and loved. Sam is sweet, loving, caring, goofy, genuine and everything she's ever wanted in a man.

(Is it? She wonders why it's not enough at times.)

The door flies open, and Puck finds her sitting at the table, letter poised perfectly in front of her. She raises her brow at him as he sighs in relief, taking a seat next to her.

"I wasn't about to slit my wrists, you know."

He shoots her a look, "Don't be a bitch." Gesturing to the letter, he asks her, "Will I open it?"

Quinn can't help but nod, "Please. I just.. I just-"

He places his hand over hers, and she hates that she welcomes the touch. She hates that it warms her. Hates that it sends electricity through her veins and comfort to her heart, "You don't have to."

She knows she doesn't have to explain, but sometimes, she thinks she should explain, if only to herself.

He opens it carefully, as if it could fall into pieces if handled to roughly, and the papers fall out. His eyes meet hers first, and then by silent agreement, he pulls out the photograph.

They both suck in a breath sharply.

A pang of hurt and longing hits Quinn so hard that she can barely breathe, and finds that suddenly she's shaking and crying all at once. She pushes her chair out from the table and bites her first, fighting desperately the tears that strive to follow the others.

It's been so long since she saw her little angel. It's been a month since she held her baby in her arms and simply sat there, revelling in holding the child she should get to hold everyday.

Puck pulls her to his chest, holding her tightly and whispering things that mean nothing – but help everything – in her ear. Her tiny fists clutch his jumper, as she repeatedly tells him she can't look again. Puck strokes her hair softly, still whispering in her ear and calming her down. He does this every time – every, single time. It's only when she gets the letters. Quinn's always great when actually with Beth.

Over her shoulder, he stares down at the picture of the blonde darling with her mother's button nose, beautiful hazel eyes and curling blonde hair. But she has that air of mischief, a sparkle in her eyes that says she's up to no good that is distinctly him.

She's got his smile. He holds Quinn a little closer.

(He wishes they never gave her up, too. He also knows that they gave her the best life possible. Their little girl, Beth.)

* * *

He tends not to question his friends sometimes questionable motives, but this time it seems to have a good end. Seems anyway. They were never too great in the kitchen, so who knows what the end will actually be – but intentions are good, that's for sure. Puck claimed he wanted to do something nice; why and for who, Finn isn't entirely sure. Apparently, it's for everyone in general because Puck feels that they've all been there for him.

Finn's doing it because, in Puck's words, he's 'still trying to get back into Berry's pants'. His words. Making them not necessarily true, especially where Puck is concerned – not the most credible of sources, Finn can promise you. Don't believe everything that guy says. (You can believe most of it though. He's a bit of a contradiction, you see, as most of the time he's direct but sometimes... he strays.)

Nevertheless, they decided cooking for everyone would be a good idea. Why, Finn can't remember anymore with the mess they've made – his now food stained top, the piling pans in the sink, the leftover veg strewn across the counter, the bits that fell on the floor dotted around the small kitchen.

It's a good idea, he reminds himself. They just have to clean up after, Finn realises with dread. Surely, if you cook it, someone else cleans it? He thinks back to when people have cooked for him and tries to remember if he cleaned afterwards.

He gives up on this as Puck throws a towel at him, "We have to make this look alright by the time they get home."

"What is defined as 'alright'..." He asks, taking in everything around him.

Puck shrugs, "Beats me. You're usually good at this shit,"

"Yeah, but you caught me by surprise. How was I to know I'd be playing friend of the year tonight?"

The other man smirks, "Think of the brownie points you'll score with Berry. Just don't bring her back to ours."

Finn rolls his eyes, "Cause you never bring people back. Besides, you know she's not like that..."

"Oh, I know. That's why I said don't bring her back – it'd be fine if you were sexing it up with her, but you'd be _talking. _Which, honestly, I can't get down with on a Saturday night."

Why is Finn friends with such an idiot? But, they've always been, he supposes. Finn hasn't had time to change the dial since. He ignores most of what Puck said, and instead starts a new topic as he wipes down the counter, "Speaking of, why are we cooking dinner instead of hitting the town?"

"Man, I'm with you there but I figure that everyone needs a bit of quality time."

Finn stops cleaning and stands back, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Seriously dude, what's your hidden motive?"

"I can't just want to have a nice dinner with my friends?"

"Not on a Saturday night, and certainly not being cooked by you. You're pretty awful at it... I'm surprised this pasta is halfway decent."

Puck waves him off, "It's all about the setting anyway. These candles and shit will make the food seem four star. And ulterior motives are so cheap."

"I'll tell you what my motives are if you do."

He snorts, "I know yours, you're about as subtle as a gun." The man sets down a plate of pasta in one of the places at the table, then pauses. "I—I just think I owe a favour to some people." A smile finds its way onto his face then, "_Plus, _I heard Santana got tickets to the next game from her job.."

He makes some sort of 'whoop' noise loudly, punching the air excitedly, "You serious? Who told you? Jesus, she better give them to us this time!"

"Yeah, well, that's my plan. But, hey, that's just a bonus of my generous idea. They never have to know of it."

"Never." He agrees, nodding his head. He finishes cleaning quietly, letting Puck set the table and put out the food. Brittany will be the first one home and is due any minute so Finn tries to work at his quickest. Honestly, he's done most of the work tonight, but that's how it always seems to roll with Puck. He doesn't ever notice until the end, too, when Puck's putting out the food and getting all the credit.

(Not entirely true. He does get credit.. Most never believe that Puck can come up with someone purely generous and selfless. Not that they've done things like this _many _times.)

Finn begins to reflect on his day as he does the mindless task that is cleaning. All in all, his day has been pretty good. Glee practice had gone better than imagined and so had his lunch with Rachel. She had met with him during her break from work, while he was finished for the day; they did it every now and again. Of course, Rachel had a million things on her mind she had to tell him about, but he was happy as always to listen. He's interested in her and what she has to say; she enraptures him. (He hates that he comes back to her time and time again. How many years of it now?)

He can't wait to see her tonight for some reason. He doesn't know why, but feels as if it'll be different to normal – but that's probably just in his mind. He's had this feeling so many times before. It's nothing new..

Brittany strolls through the door, humming happily to herself as she throws her coat on the rack beside the door and heading towards her room. She stops and the door and turns slowly, "Uh.. What are you guys doing? Oh, are we having a slumber party?" She claps gleefully, and Puck shakes his head as if in sadness.

"No, B..."

"An orgy?"

"Yup. Gangbang central here tonight!" He exclaims, then he drifts off, looking lost in his thoughts and Finn knows it's of this gangbang theory.

"Oh this will be so much fun! I've always wanted to see Finnie."

Finn glances apprehensively at Puck, who shrugs, "Er, who's Finnie?"

She walks towards him, her hands coming up to her face as she bends down in front of him, "Does little Finnie want to come to play?" Her fingers are wiggling as she says this, and he nearly turns green.

"While I would be totally down with that normally Brit, so not the time and the place."

She lets herself fall back onto her legs and pouts, "I've never seen Finnie. Santana has. She says it-"

"Oh my goodness!" Is all he hears and Finn shuts his eyes in disbelief. Distantly, he hears Puck snort with laughter and Brittany ask Rachel if she's okay.

Why does he have the worst luck?

* * *

"Rachel, nothing actually happened," Puck tells her, completely exasperated. The whole thing had been funny at first but now it's past the point of boring. It's been twenty minutes since it happened; Santana's arrived home and is taking a shower, Kurt's sitting in the living room with Brittany while Finn and Puck are stuck assuring Rachel.

Yeah, Puck's not sure why he's doing that either. He supposes he's a bit of a masochist.

"I know that." She snaps at him, angry for reasons he's not sure. Girls are crazy. "It was just a very compromising position. I mean, what was she doing there anyway? Taking advantage of Brittany's innocent nature, I mean, really.."

"There was _nothing _innocent about that." Puck laughs loudly, enjoying poking fun at Rachel thoroughly. Despite the fact that she has a massive frown on her face that totally isn't hot, she's looking well. Sitting across from him in a knitted pink cardigan and a checked pink skirt, he can admit that she's rocking the whole sexy schoolgirl look. Sure, she can be annoying, and sure she talks a lot, and sure he tunes her out often, but Rachel's still his friend and still hot. He must remember this more. She's talking rapidly, presumably on the same subject, when he interrupts, "You're looking hot tonight, Berry. What's the occasion? Me cooking? 'Cause, honestly, you didn't have to."

Finn gives him the evils from the seat opposite Rachel. Puck's surprised his eyes aren't red from crying, the man had his head in his hands the whole time Rachel ranted. Loser.

Of course, she's not finished ranting. "Noah Puckerman, could you not just give me a decent compliment? It's not that hard to be nice, you know. And modest. Try being modest – go on, give it a go."

"Says you." Kurt comments as he sits down at the table, obviously finished with whatever he and Brittany were gossiping about. She and Santana are in their room, but Puck doesn't mind because he's not serving dinner without Quinn and Mike.

Although it is starting to get (gotten) cold.

"Can't we just eat?" Kurt asks, staring at the food longingly. "I'm not one to pine for food, like Finn here, but it's been six hours since I ate. This is torture."

"Nope. Not till everyone is here."

"I can eat for Quinn and Mike?" Finn offers.

Rachel nods eagerly, "I can be Quinn and Rachel for the night." She adopts one of Quinn's bored expressions and raises an eyebrow, "Are you naive or just plain stupid? Of course Finn was going to let Brittany give it to him."

There's silence. Kurt gives her a short applause, "That was impressive."

"If not a little scary.." Puck informs her, not looking entirely pleased. "And no. You cannot replace Quinn, I'm afraid. Or Mike."

"Did you invite Sam and Blaine?" Rachel questions curiously.

"why would I do that?" He's confused.

"They're dating."

"So?"

"So... you should have invited them."

"You know, I was part of this dinner, too." Finn interjects, puffing his chest slightly.

"Oh, have you decided to stop crying?"

"Douchebag. Anyway, yeah, I cooked most of it.."

"Well done, Finn," Rachel beams, and Finn feels his ego swell a little bit. He doesn't know why it's so much better when she compliments him, but it is. He's almost sick at how lovesick he is, but can't quite commit to the feeling of nausea when his heart his elated for reasons he can't pin.

"Get me a bucket." Kurt murmurs to Puck, and the other man agrees fervently. Puck hates the googly eyes that Rachel and Finn constantly make with each other – just get together already or move on. It long ago became boring and annoying, now it's bordering on ridiculous. Although.. as he catches Rachel looking at him, Puck wonders if she's half as into it as Finn.

Finn's like a lost puppy. He pines after her constantly and by god, if Puck has to hear one more story about how wonderful she is, he'll burst his own ear drums.

"Sorry everyone," Quinn announces as she walks through the door. Upon seeing the table, she coos a little, "Awh, this is so cute. Finn and Puck, you outdid yourselves! Not bad for oh...I don't know, the second time?."

"Not bad – get a load of this one," Puck says to Finn.

"Well I haven't tasted the dinner yet. I do believe my taste buds weren't the same for weeks after last time you cooked, Puck."

He shrugs, "It's the thought that counts. Cooking was mostly Finn anyway."

Finn knows this is not Puck giving him credit, but rather covering himself in case the dinner is in fact disgusting. He doesn't think it is though – how much could they have messed up pasta?

Mike arrives two minutes later, and they all sit down at the table. Puck serves them, commenting several times as he gives them the food about who cooked it. He cites himself as the genius behind the operation and Finn the labour. Finn doesn't bother correcting any of this (most of it _is _true.).

Rachel inhales the aroma and smiles, "Smells wonderful guys. What's brought on this, honestly? It's welcomed, don't get me wrong, but you're not exactly the types to cook. Let's not beat around the bush!"

Finn shrugs and throws a glance to Puck, "It was his idea."

All eyes are suddenly on him, and he wonders which way to reply. He shrugs much like Finn did and makes brief eye contact with everyone, lingering on one person for a little longer, "I thought everyone could use a night together."

"Great idea!" Brittany exclaims, "My horoscope said that tonight I'd have a quiet night unless I decide to go out, which is _so _true."

Quinn smiles softly, "It's a wonderful idea, Noah." The use of his first name isn't lost on him, as there's very few people who ever use it, and she's one of them. Even then, Quinn mostly addresses him by his second name and so he nods silently in response to her comment instead of cracking a joke.

"When did you become such a girl?" Santana asks, twirling the pasta around her fork. "And Finn, this isn't as bad as Quinn's cooking."

He pauses, "Is that even a compliment?" as Quinn shoots her friend a glare.

"Take it as you like it."

"Well, I for one, think it's admirable that Puck and Finn finally did something for everyone else. They usually just scab off of everyone else."

"Thanks for that there, Carly."

"You know iCarly?"

"No, Brittany."

"B, I told you that show brings down the standard of tv by just being aired.."

Puck drifts as his friends carry on in conversation, wondering if he could subtly slip in something about the game next week. Surely Santana's flower boy wouldn't want them? Puck can't imagine him being very sporty, but perhaps that's just him stereotyping.. which it well could be. He hadn't taken a lot of time to get to know Blaine yet, despite having spent a good amount of time with the man. Blaine constantly seems to be out with them now, and he isn't sure how he feels about that. Honestly, he doesn't really care, but there's something about Blaine that he can't put his finger on.

Also, once or twice, Puck could swear he caught Blaine checking him out. Then again, who could blame him? Puck can't fault him for being human.

He also wonders if Blaine knows about Brittany and Santana's late night rendezvous – he's not entirely sure they're still happening, but they certainly were in the summer. Granted, it's November now; Santana's been seeing Blaine since September, so he can't put all his money on her and Brittany.

The mention of the boy in questions name draws him back into conversation.

"... to Blaine's, I told him we'd make time to see each other this weekend. Just because I get sick of you guys."

Rachel shakes her head, "Ask him over here, silly. I like Blaine," She smiles brightly, and Puck knows exactly why she likes Blaine – he thoroughly enjoys music sessions. Puck's not about to complain, any excuse to take out the guitar is a good enough one for him.

Mike winces, "We all haven't hung out alone in a while..."

"There was yesterday." Quinn replies dryly.

Kurt: "Tuesday night."

"Practically all weekend."

"_okay, _so I meant on a Friday for our sessions."

"You hate the music sessions..." Rachel says slowly, surveying Mike. He's fidgeting uncomfortably now. "I always have to convince you."

Seeing how awkward Mike is clearly feeling, Puck decides to be a good friend, "Berry, don't look so suspicious. Is it so wrong to want to leave the outsiders out every once in a while? That said, go on and invite Blaine." He turns and says quietly to Finn, "He always brings the good beer."

Rachel claps enthusiastically, "And Quinn, you invite Sam over for a bit! I can't believe I've only heard him sing once, and that wasn't even properly. What is it, two months? Really astonishing that he's escaped this long. Although, I understand that it _can _be intimidating for an amateur to perform in front of -"

Puck and Finn frown, the latter speaking first, "Woah, Sam over on a Friday? I don't know..."

Quinn furrows her brow, too, not liking what she is hearing, "Excuse me? Who said you had any say? This is my apartment, not yours. I'm going to invite my boyfriend over and you're going to be nice, like I have always been with your horrid girlfriends."

"What have you got against Sam?" Rachel asks Finn.

"And you've never been nice to their girlfriends." Kurt laughs, though he does want Sam to come over. Eye candy is never a bad thing in his books, even if it is straight candy.

Finn responds to Rachel by shrugging lightly and mumbling, "nothing."

Santana rolls her eyes, "Nothing. Yeah. Right, do you want to collect them with me, Q? Get away from these for a bit."

"Sounds good." The blonde smiles softly, and rises to get her coat. The lull in conversation gives Kurt the opportunity to turn to Brittany and discuss his campaign.

"Have you thought anymore on posters and slogans, Brit?"

Her eyes light up and she nods, "Yeah! I have a model of a poster in my room, do you want to see? I was thinking for a slogan: Embrace the Magic."

"What?" he asks confusedly, and Brittany simply leads him into her room to show him. Meanwhile, Mike slumps back into his chair, Rachel begins to clear the table, Finn scrolls through his ipod checking out songs and Puck stares into space.

Rachel glances at them briefly while stacking plates at the sink, "What is up with you guys?"

"If I tell you guys, you have to keep it quiet." Mike announces, eyes focusing in on each of them intently. Finn and Rachel agree immediately, Puck hesitating for a minute before doing the same. (He could never turn down some good gossip.)

"I—I .." He thinks about what he's about to say; whether it's wise, necessary or detrimental and decides that it's not worth it. He's being rash and acting out of jealousy, but he does have to tell them _something _because they're expecting it. (And he's going to burst at the seams.) "I don't like Blaine."

Rachel gasps melodramatically, and Finn is quick to question, "Why? I mean, I think he's a little arrogant sometimes, but he's a sound enough guy."

Puck wrinkles his nose, "He's a little fruity."

"Fruity?" Rachel looks at him, to which he only nods.

Mike draws the conversation back to him and his dislike, "Yeah – I think it's just his arrogance. How he has to take over everything, be the centre of everything and – and everything."

"Woah," Puck claps him on the back with a grin, "You really don't like the guy."

"No." he responds quietly.

"Oh _no. _No, no, no, no, no... I'll be a laughing stock, Brittany!" They hear Kurt insist, walking briskly out of her room. She's trailing behind wearing a puzzled expression and holding a poster in her hand.

"I think it's perfect. You're a unicorn, Kurt. Magic and unique and not afraid to embrace and let everyone know it – you should use that. You've never been afraid to express yourself before. I've always admired that about you."

"Let us see it, B." Finn says, joining the conversation. The two had instantly drawn the other three into the mix, but Brittany had been holding the poster out of view. As she reveals it, it takes all of Finn's willpower not to laugh. Rachel is stunned speechless, Mike's eyes are round and Puck.. he doesn't have the same inclination as Finn, and outright laughs. "Oh wow, that – that's brilliant, Brit." He shakes his head in amusement, "I needed that." Before leaving to get his guitar from his apartment.

Not saying a word, Kurt waves his arms wildly at Puck's retreating form to Brittany. Rachel finally regains words here, "True, it's not the most .. conventional of campaign posters. But it _is _original and it is sure to catch the eyes of the student body. The colours are bold, so it's not going to be just passed over like any other poster. What is most important in these elections is the originality so that you stand out – students rarely remember everyone who's running, and this ... well, they'll certainly remember you."

"Yeah. Maybe." Kurt says unconvincingly, sitting down at the table.

"Rachel has a point," Mike attempts to comfort him. "With this strategy, there's no way they'd forget you. I mean, pink, rainbow in the background with a picture of you with a unicorn horn? Unforgettable."

Kurt makes a small noise to indicate he's listening, but doesn't elaborate further. The door opens and Quinn, Sam, Santana and Blaine stroll in. Kurt and Brittany put aside their project for now, placing the controversial poster back in her room. Mike gets up promptly from the kitchen table and collapses onto the couch.

* * *

There's too many of them – ten is excessive. Eight is pushing it usually, but ten tips them over the edge and he almost wants to point it out to them. On the other hand, it could just be him being childish and petulant about Blaine and the Blaine & Rachel show that is to follow tonight... He's not being very fair on that score though, because in reality, most of them sing a little when they get together on these nights.

Mike ends up on the right of Finn, who is wedged between Puck and Mike. Neither of Puck or Finn are exactly happy with how the evening is panning out. None of the three men imagined it to go quite like this, and can't help but be a little disappointed. Both Finn and Puck are handling it much better than Mike though, who hasn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes.

Everyone is too loud. This is what happens when too many people try to squeeze into an apartment – he's sure a neighbour is going to complain. Mr. Sanders downstairs always bangs on the ceiling, but they usually pay no heed. Yes, they are those awful neighbours.

Brittany is humming loudly to a song he's not familiar as she sits on the arm of Santana's chair, with the other girl adding words every now and then. Quinn and Sam are laughing at something that is probably nonsensical from their position on the floor, Sam leaning back against Rachel's chair. Rachel and Kurt are squeezed into her chair while Blaine – to his utter disgust – takes a seat on the arm of the sofa Mike is at. Why baffles him, but nonetheless, he's sitting beside Blaine. Great.

Finn begins to fidget with the ipod, "Are you going to sing, Finn?" Blaine asks, interested. He always gives the impression of being interested. (Mike resents it because he can't always do that.)

The other boy shakes his head at the notion, "Definitely not now. Maybe after a beer and if I think of a good song."

"So, is this like a formal and organised thing or do you just spontaneously start singing?" Sam asks, mostly directing the question towards Rachel. It doesn't take a genius to work out who pulls the strings in this instance.

"Oh, it's just a silly little thing we do," she chuckles, and the others all exchange looks. It's far from a 'silly little thing' to Rachel.

"It's really important to Rachel," Quinn whispers in Sam's ear, to which he nods. As everyone separates into their own conversations, Mike can feel what is coming next and waits in dread for whatever opening he has to work with.

"So you're not a fan of these things, no?" Blaine asks, smiling.

What does he know? Mike doesn't _hate _them or is 'not a fan of them' per se, it's just not his favourite way to spend free time. But what does Blaine know? They haven't even had a conversation that outlasted hello and how are you. Mike, feeling indignant and stubborn, scoffs, "I do."

"Oh." He seems like he was unprepared for that answer, and his forehead wrinkles in confusion, "I thought you never sang and didn't like it?"

"No." Mike dismisses him, "In fact, I have something tonight and everything.."

He's not sure what he's saying, but it takes him all of five seconds to realise he's dug himself a ditch that he just has to jump into now. There's no getting out of it unless he wants to surrender all pride which is pretty much out of the question. His brain flies as he struggles to think of a song before the question is asked.

Too late. "Oh, great. What song is it?"

"Umm." He stalls for a minute, pretending Finn had nudged him as he was laughing. Mike decides that he may as well make the most of this - if he has to sing, he's going to do it well, and he's going to sing a good song. "Finn," He calls his attention, then hands him his ipod and gives him the song name. Clearing his throat, Mike shoots Rachel a look that _somehow _(he can't believe his luck) she understands, and refrains from commenting on his sudden turn about.

"_You only stay with me in the morning," _He starts as confidently as he possibly can, and the room turns deadly silent. It's not every day, after all, that Mike Chang stands up to sing. He's somewhat worried about the reaction because if anyone pays attention, it's quite clear who he is directing at.

(Or not. Mike's subtle, unlike some of his friends. He just wants her to know.)

His eyes turn to Santana's as he continues, "_You only hold me when I sleep,  
I was meant to tread the water,  
But now I've gotten in too deep."_

From standing in front of his seat on the couch, he walks around the coffee table as he sings, eyes skimming over everyone but straying back to Santana in the end. Her brow is crinkled, as if in confusion, but she doesn't look away even so.

_"For every piece of me that wants you,_

_Another piece backs away." _The attention he's getting from her boosts him, and his spirits rise dramatically. With this, Mike begins to get into the swing of the song, and jumps up onto the coffee table. Rachel objects loudly, but Kurt pulls her back down and covers her mouth until she gives up.

Mike is fully serenading now if anyone pays attention; standing on the table, facing Santana and holding her gaze. _"you give me something,  
That makes me scared, alright?  
This could be nothing,  
but I'm willing to give it a try.  
Please give me something  
Because someday I might know my heart."_

Except he knows his heart, he wants to scream. He knows and he wants to tell her (desperately) and is starting to feel that if he doesn't soon, it won't bode well for the future. That may just be the mumbo-jumbo in him, but he needs to get it out.

As he finishes, Mike nods to everyone, but lands on her last. He knows his expression is one of expectancy, but he doesn't care. Santana smirks, "No wonder you don't sing regularly."

"Santana!" Rachel scolds, "I thought it was beautiful, Mike. I won't lie to you, it was a _little _pitchy at some parts, but no one without a musical ear wouldn't notice it was that small a difference. You should honestly sing more each week."

He's not even quite listening to Rachel and her attempts at compensating for Santana's biting comment _because _the comment was so biting to him. Had it been anyone else she said it to, he would laugh and put it down to being her.

That was cold though. He clearly sang the song for her, and for her to put it down so cruelly is not something he admires. Maybe she's not who he thinks she is. He sits down and risks another glance at her, to find her looking at him intently. Just as quick it's gone though, and she's winking at him. Mike sighs.

"That was really good, Mike," Sam tells him, smiling. Mike actually likes this guy strangely enough, and makes a mental note to talk to him properly at some point. Quinn deserves it at least. (He tries not to think about whether Santana deserves it.) "I hate to follow it up, but I'm gonna' give it a shot." He jogs over to the door and picks up a guitar that Mike hadn't noticed before, and he knows it's not Puck's.

"You play?" Puck asks, gesturing to the instrument. Mike nods, wanting to know the answer, before realising that had he been asked that question he would respond sarcastically.

Sam seems to sense that that's not the way to go here though, and only nods his head. He takes a breath and flashes Quinn a smile, who is staring at him with a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face that he so rarely see's. Her expression is almost _playful_, and the only people he's ever seen bring that out in her is Puck and Finn.

"_If we take this bird in,  
With its broken leg,  
We can nurse it,  
She said._

_Come inside,  
For a little lie down with me,  
If you fall asleep,_

_It wouldn't be the worst thing.  
But when I wake up,  
Your make-up is on my shoulder._

_And tell me, if I lie down,  
Would you stay now,  
And let me hold you?"_

There's no doubting that Sam's singing is a serenade to Quinn, who is loving every minute of it. Her smile is luminous and her eyes haven't left his for the entire performance. She's clapping happily to the beat – along with everyone else (goes without saying that some more enthusiastically than others) – while Sam pulls off the song flawlessly. Mike is impressed by the boys voice as it's surprisingly good. Figures that the two new people would be also better than him at singing. Sometimes, Mike thinks he has the worst luck. (His luck is just fluctuating at a rapid pace tonight.)

Sam leans down, still rocking out his guitar, so that he is at eye-level with his girlfriend, "_But If I kissed you,  
Would your mouth read this truth?  
Darling, how I miss you  
Strawberries taste like lips do._

_And It's not complete yet,  
musn't get our feet wet  
'cause that leads to regret  
And diving in too soon._

_I'll owe it all to you,  
my little bird."_

He's simply playing the guitar then for a moment, and looks around to everyone else, as if just remembering they're all still in the room. He smiles at them charmingly, leaning close to Rachel as she dances energetically. Before Mike realises what is even happening, Brittany pulls him up and begins dancing with him. They've always been dance partners. His broken dream and her struggling dream.

"_And of all these things I'm sure of," _He sings to everyone, eyes roaming around the room, but he turns back slowly to Quinn then. "_I'm not quite certain of your love."_

_"But if I kissed you,  
Would your mouth read this truth?  
Darling, how I miss you.  
Strawberries taste how lips do,_

_And it's not complete yet." _Though Mike has never heard the song before, he senses it doesn't actually end there, but Sam decides to finish it. Everyone claps and there's pats on the back all round as Sam goes to put his guitar back. When he returns, Quinn gives him a quick peck on the lips. Even Mike knows she's not one for PDA. He does know, however, that Sam Evans is going to be one lucky man tonight.

Mike glances over at Santana, to find her chatting away to Blaine about god knows what.

Maybe he should ask Sam for some tips.

* * *

So I gave you the whole chapter because I felt bad for not updating quickly, but I have good reason. Or bad reason - I came down with tonsilitis :( It was quite the awful one. In any case, I'm feeling much better now, so I thought I'd give you this. I hope you enjoy! Also, what pairings you're seeing here - I'd like to remind - may not be the endgame. Just to keep that in mind! For people looking for explosively dramatic Finchel, there is Finchel coming up, but this is not centered around Finchel. I chose it as the pairing to search for because it gets most publicity. Anyway, thanks for all your wonderful feedback, I look forward to hearing more ;)  
I don't own Glee, Friends, "You Give Me Something" by James Morrison, "Little Bird" by Ed Sheeran (lovely, lovely song) or "She's Always a Woman To Me" by Billy Joel. All amazing songs actually, I'd rec giving them a listen :)  
Until next time mes amis,  
CN.


	10. The One With The Stupid Argument

Chapter Ten: The One With The Stupid Argument.

_x: Why did you have to go and make things so complicated?_

It seems that the week flies by as Finn finds himself again on a Friday. Except, the thing is, this Friday is slightly different to the others; Rent roles are being revealed. He's not too sure of what he'll actually get, just that he somewhat expects Roger. Rachel had gotten him on board here by flashing him Roger and if he doesn't get that role – well, Finn doesn't know what he'll do. He won't like it though that's for sure.

Class seems to tick by today, more so for him than the students. He can't even concentrate properly on teaching and so simply gives the kids something to work on. Finn's a little astounded by how much he cares about what he once called a 'stupid play'. In reality, he shouldn't care – and this brings him to why he cares.

At first, Finn debates his love for music as a teenager as he played the drums and sang in the Glee club. When picking his future career, he had considered trying to break into music. He soon realised that he didn't have the passion others have, nor the talent for that matter. Even so, this could have been where his anticipation is derived from – but no. Finn has no inclination to continue music or try to make a living out of it, or even go onto star in another play.

The extra cash entered his mind, but Finn's never been one to crave for money and he certainly doesn't now. He even took a cut from Rachel so that he's receiving the bare minimum for his work here, making this reason very quick to rule out.

Finn's eventually brought to the reason he doesn't quite want to acknowledge. Rachel or Jesse. True, this whole anticipation could just be Finn wanting to beat out Jesse. Because by god he does. But is he that much in competition with the man? Finn hasn't talked to him since they first met and hasn't had a chance to, either. (He still dislikes him though.) Undoubtedly, he wants to beat out Jesse, but there's something more.

Rachel. Which, he supposes, is linked to Jesse. (It's the reason he doesn't like how Jesse is so impressive.) He realises that he _wants _to impress Rachel, he wants her show to be a hit and he wants it to be partly because of _him. _Maybe it's a hero complex, wanting to be her knight in shining armour, but he can't help the way he feels. This is as far as Finn is willing to delve though. (Any further and revelations he's not willing to accept could be forced to be acknowledged.)

Nonetheless, when the bell rings, Finn ushers his class out the door and locks it promptly behind him. There's students from his Glee club about the upcoming sectionals and their song choices, but he briskly tells them that he's in a hurry and it will have to wait. He has Rachels in his club, too.

It's only when he's at home, sitting on one of the armchairs in front of the tv (while glancing at his mobile on the small end table beside him) that he wonders why he was in such a rush. Finn's not even sure when he'll be called, and he assumes it will be the director as Brittany and Rachel are too close to him. Unless all that doesn't matter, and one of the girls will just knock over and tell him.

As he's mulling this all over once again, Puck walks in, whistling loudly. Finn turns the chair around to look at him, tilting his head as he observes the man going through the fridge obliviously. "Where've you been?"

Puck jumps slightly, then continues his rummage of the fridge, "Listening to Kurt and Brittany argue about campaigns," He replies, taking a cold slice of pizza and sitting down on the armchair next to Finn. "Pretty much hell, let me tell you. Got home from work early – quiet day, you know – and was bored. Turns out being bored would have been better than _that."_

"I see.." A thought strikes him, "Did Santana give you those tickets?"

A dark look crosses Puck's face immediately as a scowl appears, "No." It's said petulantly, like a child.

Finn claps him on the back and chuckles, "Can't win everytime."

"We never win them!"

"Looks like you'll be joining Mike in hating Blaine, eh?"

Puck shakes his head, "Nah. Besides, he won't be there for all that long. It's Santana."

He doesn't say anything, just nods. Puck _is _speaking the truth; no one lasts long with Santana. No has lasted longer than Blaine already, but it will probably be short-lived. (Deep down, Finn reckons Santana will never be interested in settling down long-term with a man.) Although he has certain problems with Blaine's tendency to take over a room, Finn finds that he likes him. Blaine's always been perfectly friendly to him, and he's nice to Kurt – which not all of the girls boyfriends have been. Finn see's no problem with the man. Why would Mike? He wonders. Puck is a lot more arrogant than Blaine, Finn thinks with a glance to said man, and he takes centre attention plenty too.

"Why doesn't Mike hate you?" Finn questions aloud.

Puck throws aside the empty pizza box and takes the remote, "What kind of question is that? Why would he?" He looks at Finn, "Seriously, dude, who wouldn't want this?"

"_That _is exactly why Mike shouldn't like you. I mean, if he has a problem with Blaine."

"Why do you care? The fuck has gotten into you?"

Finn feels his temper flare a little, but pushes it aside and shifts his position. He takes a minute to think before replying, "Waiting for the roles of Rent has got me worried, I guess."

Puck rolls his eyes, "Just go ahead and ask Rach out _again."_

"It didn't work last time."

"So?"

"So... It would be like me saying, 'hey, go ask Quinn out.' Or Santana, for that matter – granted, Quinn was more of a relationship, Santana more of a fuck buddy."

Puck grins wolfishly, "Yeah, those were the good days." He comes back to the situation then, "_But _we both know it's completely different. I'm not pining after anyone..."

There's a lingering pause then, in which both Finn and Puck think hard about what to say next. They're treading dangerous topics that usually don't get said all that much – being serious, said in jest all the time – and that's when the phone rings. Puck sends him a smirk, "Good luck peter pan."

"It's _Rent, _tool." It doesn't come out as mocking as he had planned, because he's grabbing the phone and rushing to his room, leaving Puck alone in the room. Puck doesn't spend a lot of time on his own; if his apartment is empty, he heads over to the girls, or else one of the men are home. (He's not exactly troubled by a lack of alone time, Puck's a social creature.) As he sits in peace watching reruns of Baywatch, he wonders why he doesn't demand more solitude. It's not that bad.

Of course, it's short-lived. Quinn strolls in, Kurt on her tail, with an exasperated expression on her face. She slumps down into the chair Finn vacated, while Kurt takes a standing position in between the two. He places his arms on his hips and pouts at her. "No." Is her reply before turning to Puck, "Were you in work today, slacker?"

"Eh, _yeah. _I'm a working man Fabray.."

"Every now and then," She smirks, and he chuckles. Kurt clears his throat and both of them look at him, Puck questioningly.

"What?"

"Quinn won't be my campaign manager." He groans, hoping Puck will support him on this. He should have known better, really.

"Isn't that Brittany's job?" He asks confusedly.

Quinn nods, "Yes. It'll break her happy little heart, Kurt, and also – I don't want to do it! I said no, and no is my answer."

"Fine." Kurt spits back, and as he turns to leave, Finn opens his bedroom door. Consequently, all three are turning that way and shrink back at the man's expression. He's sure as hell not happy, Puck thinks. His eyebrows are set in a frown and he's doing that squinting thing he does when angry. Fists are balled at his sides.

It's Puck's turn to clear his throat, "It, eh, didn't go well?"

Finn shoots them an angry glance, "She cast _Jesse _as Roger." Kurt, Puck and Quinn exchange looks; uh, oh.

* * *

It's not much later as they all sit in the girls sitting room, scattered across the couches and floor. That is, all except for Rachel and Brittany who are still held up at the theatre. Quinn glances uneasily to Puck beside her, and then leans in to whisper, "This isn't going to go down well…"

"Hell, no." Puck looks at Finn, who is listening to Kurt harping on about the good points of playing Collins. Puck figures it would be wise to wait to mock him on playing a gay character. Hey, he's all for 'love who you want', but the opportunity is too much to pass.

"Rachel's not going to like being undermined."

He rolls his eyes, "It's not being undermined, it's just complaining."

"But he thinks she's wrong…" Quinn trails off. She meets Santana's eyes and notices that the girl doesn't appear at all interested in what is occurring – not that it's particularly exciting, mind you – but it's a different uninterested expression to what she usually wears. Usually, Santana looks bored. Now, she appears distracted. Quinn makes a mental note to ask her, because she knows Santana is never going to willingly seek her out and tell her.

(She wishes she would.)

"Since we're all having this big meeting for serious reasons," Mike announces, half-mockingly, "I have something to say.."

"Did you order an Asian bride?" Santana questions coolly, "Because otherwise it's not exciting or serious at all." She pauses but before anyone can reply, adds thoughtfully, "And you could probably use one."

He grits out an annoyed, "No." Inhales deeply. "My parents want me to marry soon or move back.."

"So?" Quinn frowns, looking around at the others in confusion, "Am I the only one who thinks that's ridiculous? You're not eighteen."

"They've got no hold over you, Mike." Finn tells him, wondering if his friend has let numbers go to his head.

"They're my _parents._"

"Dude, they're out of line. Sort your life out."

"Thank you, Puck." The conversation is becoming increasingly difficult for Mike, and he regrets ever bringing up the topic. He felt he should tell them, but obviously it would have been better to wait even longer. Lately though, he thought they'd notice he'd been gone visiting his parents more, on the phone to them and just generally missing a lot more. (It hurts him a little that they didn't question a lot). As an anger builds in his bones that isn't really like him, Mike lashes out, "Just because some of you are perfectly content with cutting your parents off and pretending like they don't exist, doesn't mean I'm okay with that."

There's a hushed silence that follows almost instantly after his words – mouths snap shut as they're about to interrupt, while others mouths fall open in shock. The moment the words leave his lips, Mike wants to be sucked into a black hole. He didn't mean to take it that low, and it was out of order. He risks a glimpse at the person it refers to the most.

"Out of line, man." It's rare that he hears Puck sounding so serious and threatening, and it worries him a little.

She rises from her chair and approaches him with a deadly look in her eyes, "Don't talk shit about what you don't understand, Mike." She hisses and then goes to her room, the door slamming shut loudly after her. It seems to echo multiple times behind her, and then there's that silence again.

"Rachel would be able to take control here," Finn says sadly, "But she's at that _stupid _theatre."

"You need to apologise." Kurt tells Mike flatly, "And I'm not sticking around for it. Finn, come on. There's no point confronting Rachel when you're like this anyway." Kurt turns on his heel to face Puck and snorts a little, "And you're certainly not staying. I value Mike's life, and so you're coming with me."

"Can I just ask you never to place 'coming' and 'me' in the same sentence again, please?" Puck groans and follows them out the door. Mike doesn't miss the dirty look he shoots him before closing the door softly behind them.

Santana turns his head towards her, and suddenly her face is just inches from his, "Unnecessary jab. I don't know whether it was meant for me or Quinn, or you just felt like ruining everyone's day – but I would like to know what the fuck has gotten into you. Who are you anymore?" She stands back and shakes her head, the unadulterated anger melting from her eyes, "Go to life rehab or something, you're pissing me off." Santana's gone then, into her room, door shut. He's alone.

He can't help but wonder if it's symbolic in any way.

* * *

She glances up apprehensively from behind her bangs, mouth poised to respond as she sings, "I've got baggage too.."

Jesse turns his head, as if torn with what's happening, "Should tell you.."

"Okay, now the beeper is going off here and there's a moment of stillness." Artie tells them, waving his arms from the seats in front. Rachel has been highly impressed thus far and finds herself suitably satisfied with how she hired him. Brittany sits beside him, but is quiet today for the most part as there is not a lot of choreography to be handled. Being honest, there's not a lot of choreography in the whole play, but Rachel wanted Brittany on board. Still does. Beyond it being nice to have a familiar face, she adds unique elements to everything she does and Rachel wants something different but spectacular. "Can you feel the moment of realisation, that you are both suffering a damning fate?"

She nods, unwilling to admit she's exhausted after the past six hours. In the back of her mind, she's also keenly aware of the party she still has to organise for a client and how she's falling horribly behind. The apartment is a mess, too. Brittany spontaneously decided to paint her and Santana's room – they're _still _cleaning up the aftermath, meaning the four of them have to share Rachel and Quinn's room. She almost groans at the thought of going back to a house with absolutely no solitude. (She doesn't know how Brittany and Santana do it, but finds that asking could give her answers she's been ignoring.)

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur, with her watching on through others scenes and avoiding Finn's eyes as studiously as possible. She hasn't had a chance to talk with him yet, but according to the others, he's not exactly happy.

Rachel believes it to be purely luck that she's avoided him so well before, but figures that this is the end of the road. They're going the same way home – although he's driving – and there'll be a period in time at the end in which they'll be able to talk. She dreads it a little. Most of her is ready for a battle on the other hand and perfectly poised for a fight. She's not going to be ridiculed for not being biased. Jesse, to her absolute chagrin, is better than Finn. It just comes down to that, and if Finn has a problem with that, maybe he needs to re-examine it. Or his head.

As Artie calls it a day, she breezes into the back and past her best friend. Rachel can't fathom why she's acting so strange. (Only she can. She doesn't want to fight with Finn, which is what will happen. In reality, she loves him far too much to get into a deep argument that will last days.) She rapidly grabs her bag and coat, but knows she's been too slow when she hears the recognisable thud of his footsteps behind her. She knows it's him before he speaks. Then, in a tone that is so unlike him, he calls out firmly, "Rachel."

Suddenly, Rachel berates herself for being such a coward. This is not the person she is. She turns swiftly around and raises her eyebrows, "Yes, Finn?"

He clears his throat, but remains silent for a few seconds. He hesitates slightly, but then tells her more than asks her, "Ride with me home.." She only nods and continues to gather her things once more, during which time Finn speaks again, "We need to talk for obvious reasons. Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion, but I thought you needed me and I thought you had my back. But what—"

"Had your _back?_" She fires, whirling around again to meet his eyes. "What do you think this is Finn? It's not playground rules, you know. I do what is best for the play, and that was Jesse."

"You said you needed me."

"I did." She pauses, "I do. But not like this… If you can't play your part, I understand. Just tell Artie in time to get your understudy."

His eyes narrow in the way they do when he's thinking hard, and right now, it feels like he's studying her. (Not like how he used to, with wonder and awe in his eyes in the light rays of the morning through her window.) Rachel gets uncomfortable under his eyes and raises her eyebrows for him to reply. He doesn't, and so she scoffs and begins to walk out the door.

"I don't think I can be around you right now."

"If you can't behave professionally and act like a mature adult, then that is for the best."

Her blood is boiling, and her temper is so fired up that Rachel's prepared to lash out at whoever speaks to her next. Or god forbid if someone bumps into her on the walk home, because she feels like Mt. Etna about to blow. She can barely believe what just happened; how could Finn be so immature? He's taking it too heart far too much, and she doesn't understand just why he's getting so strange about all of it. Part of her wonders if he even does.

* * *

Sorry for the wait again folks! I'm definitely updating tomorrow because I love the chapter :) Thanks for reading, and especially thanks to the recent reviews. They've been great! Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Don't forget to vote in my poll on pairs! Quick is in the lead atm, with Finchel coming in second.  
Disclaimer: Do not own Glee, Friends or "Complicated" by Avril Lavigne. Also, will try and update LWGYH soon for those following it.

CN.


	11. The One In Which Kurt Gets a Shock

Chapter Eleven: The One In Which Kurt Gets A Shock

_xi: Let me know that I've done wrong, when I've known this all along. I go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you._

It's been a normal day for him by all means. He went to college, had lunch with friends, handed out some flyers advertising him for class rep, and then returned home. Originally, he intended on asking Rachel to watch a couple of musicals with him. He's feeling a little down, and their movie nights never fail to cheer him up, but then he realised she's at rehearsals. He's not afraid to say that he misses her presence around the place, especially when the others are being crabby and selfish. She listens and advises, plus they have a lot in common to gab over.

However, with Rachel out, he goes to the next best thing (in terms of convincing to watch musicals) which is Quinn. As he enters their apartment, Kurt revises in his head how he's going to blackmail her. God knows Quinn never backs down easily, and to his knowledge she doesn't like the musical 'West Side Story'. Something about it being overdone. That aside, it's the one Kurt wants to watch the most, and he's not watching it alone.

In all honesty, he should be flying high. Classes are going great. He looks to be the winner of the class rep race. The only thing that's missing – that seems to be always missing – is someone he can come home to, or call up, or just melt into at the end of his long days. Someone who will share all of this just as enthusiastically and support him in every step. Even more than this, this longing for a boyfriend, Kurt is angry and morose because he knows exactly who he wants.

Just as his thoughts enter this premise, he pushes them away angrily. He had promised himself to stop thinking about straight men in that context.

Kurt knocks on Quinn's door lightly, but doesn't bother with waiting for a reply and just walks right in. It's at that moment that he wishes with all his might that he had have waited, that he hadn't been too preoccupied to hear the noises, and that he could have just watched a movie alone for once and stopped being so needy.

He finally gets out the only words he can, "You're—you're with _someone else!"_

* * *

Hey folks! I know, I know.. it's short. The reason? Well, I intended for this whopper cliff hanger to be inserted to the end of the last chapter, but forgot. I couldn't resist the cliff so I put it here instead. Fear not, however, as I promise to upload the next chapter tomorrow. All shall be revealed, my friends! Thank you for all the reviews so far, they mean a lot :) So, who has Kurt caught in the act?

Disclaimer: I do not own Friends, Glee, nor "Dirty Little Secret" by the All-American Rejects.

Thanks for reading, and I promise an update will arrive tomorrow.

CN


	12. The One Where Lines Are Crossed

Chapter Twelve: The One Where Lines Are Crossed

_xii: How much longer will it take to cure this? Just to cure it 'cause I can't ignore it if it's love._

_(Earlier that day)_

"Yeah, of course. Honestly, I'd be more than happy, you know that. I hate to sound so enthusiastic!" She laughs a little forcefully, "But whenever you need me to take her is fine with me. Of course, Puck will be here, too. And Rachel." She nods along to the voice on the other end, willing to conform to whatever she's saying. Quinn can feel the excitement in her bones and joy in her heart and she's not even off the phone yet.

She's home earlier than usual, so no one is around. They're all out or at work, but she doesn't really care. The place has been more cramped than usual lately; she's thankful for the peace. Quinn has had half a mind to move in with one of the guys as the girls are all beginning to grate on each other. Mike even has a spare room, so she can't fathom why Brittany or Santana won't go there. Quinn was lucky enough to get Brittany who, although has moments of complete insanity, is a far lower maintenance than Santana. Granted, Quinn ponders, Rachel is worse and so they probably make a good pair.

Realising that Shelby is still on the other line, Quinn zones back in and takes down some details on a nearby napkin. Rachel is obsessive about keeping a pen in the second drawer, and for the first time, Quinn is thankful for her OCD ways. Finishing up the call, Quinn bids her goodbye and hangs up.

Overjoyed, she begins to dance around the sitting room, singing a nonsensical tune about 'we got Beth' and adding random lyrics to it. She jumps onto the couch and across to the armchair, never stopping for a moment. Shaking her hips rhythmically whilst alternating between grinning wildly and laughing, she fails to hear someone enter the apartment. Quinn continues her dance and even shakes her rear a couple of times to provide extra laughs for herself – she rarely gets to act so foolishly, and it feels good. She'd never let anyone else see her like this.

Quinn finally stops dancing to get a drink of water, but continues to hum the familiar tune gleefully. Her cheeks are sore from smiling and laughing, which makes her realise with a start that she mustn't do it very much.

An applause rings out behind her, and Quinn freezes at the sink. Oh god, no. She rapidly makes a list of who would be the best person to be there (read: Rachel, Mike, Brittany, Finn.) and the worst (read: Kurt, Santana, Puck.) She turns around slowly, eyes scrunched closed in fear and anticipation.

The person laughs then – Quinn knows exactly who it is now and opens her eyes. Her brilliant smile returns and she runs to greet him. Her arms are thrown around him tightly and she kisses him soundly. She can feel him laughing against her and leans back to get a look at those beautiful blues, "Hey you," She greets him happily.

"Hey yourself," He replies, his hands going around her waist. "What's the cause for celebration? I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed that performance. I should get my own private show later.."

She snorts, not bothering to address that, and returns to grinning like a crazy lady, "I get to mind Beth for a few days! How great is that, Sam?"

Initially, he genuinely does not know how to react. Firstly, it makes him uneasy and he struggles to keep that off his face and secondly, he feels a little suffocated all of a sudden and wants to leave. Seeing her so happy increases his heart rate though, and gives him a warm feeling, so he puts on his own smile and pulls back to clasp her hands, "That's so great, Quinn! I'm happy for you."

She's nodding, taking the piece of tissue from the table and putting it in her room. Sam follows her, listening to the rambling that she so rarely does, "I mean, it'll be difficult sure. It'll be the first time I've had her for more than one day and night. I hope she'll take it well – she's old enough to understand, right? Ten is old enough, isn't it? She's such a smart kid, too. You have to meet her – I know I'm biased, but Beth is the most gorgeous and lovely little girl I know. I've ever known." They're in her bedroom now where she proceeds to tuck the tissue gently into her drawer, and looks back at him. "Wow, I need to tell Puck! Did you see him?"

"Outside your door?" He asks, raising a brow. "… no." Sam wonders slightly impatiently of why she's running off to Puck.

She waves him off, "Of course you didn't, I'm all over the place. I'll see if he's home yet! A-and the others of course…" Quinn begins to bound out the door, but at the last moment, rotates to see him again. "Sorry Sam, what did you come over here for?"

He wants to tell her it was to spend some quality time. Wants to ask her out for a spontaneous dinner. The movies. For some reason, he can't. He paints on another false smile, "Nothing big. Dinner tomorrow night?" She nods, kisses him on the cheek and flees the room to find her friends.

Sam stands there for what seems like hours, but is only ten minutes. He's simply gazing around her room, taking in the sparse decorations and few photos. The walls are bare save for a collage in the centre of the wall facing her bed, and he knows instantly just by looking at it that Rachel made it for her. He's come to know them all well in the time he's dated Quinn, and it positively screams Rachel. It's glittered and is littered with stars and quotes from songs. However, what catches his attention are the photo's. He's never looked closer before, but now that he does, Sam's intrigued.

There's a photo of Quinn and Santana dancing on a bar, but it looks to be on holiday from Santana's darker than usual skin and the bathing top Quinn is sporting. Brittany is on the other end of the bar, away from the other two, swinging her top in her hand.

His eyes move to one of Rachel and Quinn at graduation, proud smiles beaming from both of them. He knew they were friends a long time, but not quite that long. He supposes he had never bothered to ask. The next one is Rachel, Finn and Quinn at some sort of party. They're a little older than the previous picture, he assumes in college, and the girls are laughing at Finn who is wearing a hula skirt and a pair of sunglasses. That's all he's wearing.

Kurt and Quinn are posing ridiculously in the next picture, donned in pyjamas with margaritas in their hands. He realises it's the girls living room, and can see Brittany doing Santana's hair in the distant background. The next photo with Quinn dressed as little Bo Peep doing a shocked pose as Puck – dressed as a mafia gangster – and Mike – a burglar – pretended to rob her causes him to release a small chuckle.

There's some group photo's then, which he only scans over, before coming to the picture – the two pictures - he had been avoiding a little. The first is one of Quinn right after Beth is born, or so he thinks anyway. A little pink bundle is cuddled in her arms, and despite Quinn smiling up at the camera, her finger is tightly enclosed in Beth's hand. Puck has his arm around Quinn, gazing down at Beth adoringly. Confusion floods him – why the hell is Puck in the picture? Judging by how weary, but happy, Quinn looks it seems as if it's just moments after Beth is born. Also, Beth would have been taken away after a while since Quinn was giving her up.

Something clicks then, and he realises this must have been when Puck and Quinn were dating. Quinn told him the father hadn't been in the picture, so Puck must have gone into the room with her. His respect for the man grows a little if he loved and cared for Quinn enough at one point to be with her even if she was pregnant. (Ignorance is bliss.)

Before even looking at the last picture, Sam hears someone enter the apartment and is glad for it. He suddenly needs to leave.

(The reason he couldn't tell Quinn what he wanted is becoming more apparent.)

The photo he forgot still stares out from the collage, and sticks out like a sore thumb to any man Quinn brings around. It's only a few years ago, at a concert it seems. The lights are dim; they're all sitting on stools. It's intimate. The camera is focused on Puck and Quinn; she's laughing heartily (in a way that's not often seen) with her hand placed gently on his arm, while he's simply looking at her, though there's a small grin playing on his lips.

Quinn could never bring herself to take it down, and yet, the whole collage is a message to any one who enters. Especially that picture.

* * *

Quinn races into the boys apartment, throwing open the door and glancing around quickly. She hears the shower running and knocks on the door, but is answered with a loud rendition of "seasons of love". _Kurt_. Seeing how clean the place is, she assumes he's been home a while. But are the others?

She pushes open Puck's door and is delighted to find him lying on his bed, reading a book. Quinn momentarily considers how different this image of him is, and how he should let people see it more, but then moves on. She jumps onto the bed and sits on his legs, nudging him excitedly. "Come on, I have to show you something!"

Puck's eyes are wide in surprise, but it soon disappears to be replaced with a smirk, "Show me anything you want, babe."

She doesn't even roll his eyes, which intrigues him further, so he allows her to pull him up and follows her into her apartment. Puck can't help but wonder if she's lost her mind for real this time, and thinks wearily of how tiresome it was making her sane again last time. She's gone off the deep end twice, and neither time was particularly fun for him. Both times he was elected as one of the targets. Realising they're entering her room, one of his brows raise.

Quinn pulls a piece of tissue out of her drawer and hands it to him, eyes on him expectantly for a reaction. Puck holds it with his thumb and index finger, glancing between it and Quinn apprehensively, "Er.. thanks. This will come in handy, I suppose. I can use it to jack off to what I thought I was getting here."

"Stop the jokes, Puckerman. Read it." She tells him flatly, but the irritated mood then instantly lifts. He takes his time, reading it three times, before returning his eyes to her. There's a place, a date and a time. Is she asking him out? Because he was honestly only joking earlier... She sighs, "It's got nothing to do with sleeping with me. Where is that place? C'mon!"

"It's the diner around the corner from Shel…We get to see Beth this month?" He asks, his face lighting up.

Quinn nods fervently, "We also get to take her home…_and_ have her for a couple of days. A couple of days, Puck! We've never gotten that before." The both let out exclamations of joy, and in his haze, Puck picks up Quinn and twirls her around. They're both laughing, but as she slides down to earth again, leaning against his chest, the atmosphere changes.

Quinn hates when that happens. She tries to ignore it and closes her eyes, leaning her head on his chest, "We get our girl for a few days, Noah."

Puck leans back to look at her, one million and one thoughts racing through his brain. He refrains from commenting on how they can pretend for a while. Refrains from commenting on they'll see how it could have been. Above all, staring into those eyes again, he becomes increasingly aware of the fact that they're in her bedroom. Everything in him is shouting at him to close the distance – part of him doesn't even think she'd reject him.

(Goodness knows she has before.)

Her voice is a soft whisper when she says his name, "Puck…" It's his undoing.

* * *

When she gets the call, she's pleasantly surprised. In fact, she's more than pleasantly surprised, she's on-top-of-the-world fuck-me surprised. It's enough to put her in such a good mood that she says goodnight to all of her co-workers and sings a happy tune as she hops into her car. Santana always has to make the initiation, she's always the one with the raw, hot need.

This time, it's not her. She has to admit, it feels brilliant to be the one wanted for once. Of course, Santana is always wanted by strangers, but never by one close to home. She constantly feels as if she's the one chasing them down, making the effort and holding on. (Holding on often translates as pushing away.)

On the way home, she stops at the local liquor store and buys some of her favourite wine. She's excited like she only gets with one person, and it feels nice. Santana isn't used to emotions of elation or fulfillment. She's generally empty. Nothing satisfies her or fills that gaping hole that's always been with her – except one thing, that is.

That one thing is one Ms. Brittany Pierce. Santana will never admit it aloud, and won't even admit it to Brittany. She see's her sitting on the bench outside their place, braiding her own hair with difficulty and tapping her foot to a rhythm only she can hear. Santana pauses for a minute to drink in the beauty and innocence wrapped up in that simple image, and vows to keep it with her forever. For when she feels down.

She makes her presence known then, and Brittany jumps up to hug her, "San!" Her grip is tight and already Santana wants her. It's amazing what one person can do to you, and she's more than helpless if Brittany ever figures out the power she has. Though, on reflection, being Brittany she wouldn't even use it for malicious or manipulative purposes. (Not like Santana.) "I thought you'd never get here."

"I got here as fast as possible, B. Brought some wine," She holds up the bottle with a smile. Santana notices the melancholic expression her best friend is wearing then, and her she frowns with concern. "What's wrong?"

"The dance studio closed today. I—I can't dance anymore…"

"Oh, Brit.." She trails off, grasping the girls hand. "You'll find somewhere else. You're brilliant, everyone will want you."

"I am brilliant." Brittany concedes, "You think they'll _all _want me?"

She hesitates, knowing what she wants to say but struggling with getting the words out. All her life, Santana struggles with what she feels and expressing it correctly. More often than not, it comes out as a bitchy comment or as a back-handed compliment. But Brittany is looking at her so sincerely, so lovingly and with such want that it cracks her. "I know I do." The other girl recognises immediately the weight in her words (she's not quite so stupid when it comes to some things.) and changes the way their hands are so that they're interlaced. Santana comments crudely then to break the sentimentality, "Come on, we need some time, and I've been dying to do it on Rachel's bed to piss her off."

"Santana," Brittany scolds. "We're doing it in Quinn's room. Rachel's teddy's always watch me, and I've a feeling they could kill me if I sleep there…"

"Plus Rach will just _know _by walking into the room. That damned loveable control freak.."

Brittany steals a quick peck on the mouth, and they climb the stairs to their apartment together.

(Santana can't help the guilt it floors her as she glances around to see if anyone was around as Brittany kissed her. But she can't help doing it either.)

* * *

"Oh! Em, yes, you can have the ro.. yeah, okay.." Quinn mutters, eyes closed as the image imprints upon her brain. Puck, whose hands had been on her arms, drop as if she burned him. He takes a step swiftly back and nods to her.

"That's great news, Q." He turns to the other two, and gives them a small smirk and tilts his head, "_Ladies."_

She hates how he's able to gather himself so well, how he can recover from any situation with absolute minimal damage. She's not sure how he does it either, that detail constantly evades her. How to remain calm in the face of your two best friends – girls – running into your room holding hands and looking like young lovers is definitely something Quinn wants to ask him about.

(If she was to tell the truth, she'd tell you that she's relieved they walked in because she's not sure what would have happened otherwise. She's afraid to think about it.)

Puck leaves it at that, giving her a quick smile in reference to Beth (or her, but she's not going to acknowledge that. Ever maybe.) and Quinn is frozen in the spot for the moment. Santana and Brittany stand before her; Brittany is grinning like crazy, while Santana is looking at Quinn with her eyebrows raised. She wants her to leave.

Her eyes drop and she notices their hands interwined again. Nodding slowly, Quinn begins to back out of the room. Her mind is still reeling and her mouth still incapable of words but she's able to leave. Closing the door quietly behind her, Quinn leans against it for a moment. She's not sure where to begin with how to feel about the last hour.

Are Brittany and Santana doing.._it?_ Quinn supposes that she should have seen it coming. Almost recognises that they've all known it a long time, but isn't quite ready for that step yet. Processing the thought that two of her best friends may well be lesbians isn't something she relishes, and so she shakes her head, steels her shoulders and walks out of the apartment.

Quinn pauses at the door to get her jacket and purse first though, and it's then a thought strikes her. Cringing, she shouts gingerly, "Change my sheets!"

She scampers out before they can reply, feeling a little nauseous: _they're doing it on her bed._

It's also the scene that greets Kurt when he comes looking for Quinn later on.

* * *

_Week later:_ It's been a long day for her by all means; organising a stuck-up, stubborn, snobby, spoilt sixteen year olds birthday is not what she had planned for herself. Rachel had imagined bright lights and flashing camera's, not chocolate cakes and coloured streamers that aren't even for her. She's feeling a little despondent lately with herself. She's disappointed in her lack of ambition these days, horrified by how little motivation runs in her veins and downright upset about how her life is turning out.

Again, this isn't what she had planned. There's still time, they say. But she's getting on a bit to be breaking into Broadway as a young star.. She wanted that. The young fame and stardom.

Aside from her professional life, Rachel's personal life isn't fairing the best either. Quinn barely speaks to her anymore for reasons she can't fathom, Santana is moodier than ever, Finn and her are barely on speaking terms and she hasn't seen Kurt in a long while around their place. The others are fine with her, but it still worries her that so many of her friends seem to be AWOL.

Sighing in dismay, she's startled when her phone begins to ring. Rachel is sitting in a coffee shop not far from her theatre, but not the usual one that Brittany works in. She isn't in the mood to sit in silence with her friends - if they even went to Brittany's place. She glances at the name on her phone and frowns. Wonderful; more hard work.

Chalking it up to being something important, Rachel answers the phone begrudgingly, "Yes, Jesse?" Her voice is overly chirpy and she hopes he understands why.

"Hey Rachel, I was just wondering if you're free at the moment? I'm going through the script, and there's a scene I'm struggling a little with without a Mimi. Would you mind putting in an extra hour with me?"

Her head laughs at the idea, wants to respond with a flat no. However, something inside of Rachel is taking her another way, and she tells herself that this is all professional. With that in mind, she finds herself agreeing to meet him. As they settle on meeting at the theatre in ten, Rachel wonders what the hell she has agreed to.

Draining the last of her herbal tea, Rachel leaves the café and begins the walk back to her theatre. When it was given to her – the theatre – she had been so unbelievably grateful and so head-over-heels for it, but now, her love seems to have faded. Jesse's words eat away at her, because she knows they're true. She left her dream for this; some cheap productions with failed stars. Part of her resents all that is stands for, and another part screams for some semblance of theatre and all that makes _Rachel_.

Suddenly, Jesse is a few metres away from her, and she's staring mindlessly at the building in front of her. When she turns to him, Rachel see's he has that small smirk on his face he constantly seems to carry. This time however, it's less arrogant and actually more like a … like a genuine smile. But it couldn't be – right? She nods to him, and gets the keys out to open it. As she unlocks the door, Rachel calls out, "I hope you have your script ready and the exact scene. I don't have all night to be messing around with you."

"Hot date?"

They approach the stage together, and she can sense the _smirk _in his tone. Rather haughtily, Rachel replies, "If you must know, I don't need a man nor a date to keep my life full and vibrant. I'm going home to my friends, we're watching a movie."

"What movie?" He appears curious, and not mocking her. She hates having to analyse him. Another side of her takes a thrill in the challenge.

She hesitates, "West Side Story – it's with Kurt. Of course, you wouldn't know him." Rachel adds immediately after, wondering why she didn't just leave it as 'with a friend'.

"Good musical. I once played Tony. So, the scene I wanted to go over was the one where we meet for the first time. I can't seem to capture that initial sexual tension and attraction in my acting, but that was without you." His eyes are oddly dark, and strangely alluring in that moment, but Rachel doesn't dwell on that thought for long.

"There shouldn't be a problem with that scene, it's by far the easiest in my opinion." Rachel doesn't bother retrieving her script; she doesn't need it.

"That's because you get to work with me." Instead of huffing at his arrogance, or rolling her eyes at how conceited he can be, Rachel laughs. She isn't sure why she didn't do one of the former two things, but at that time, she felt laughing was appropriate. It bubbled up into her throat and out her lips before she could stop it. She's going insane. She's beginning to get his humour; he's not unlike Puck in some ways.

They rehearse for an hour or two, and to both their surprise, it ends up being enjoyable. In between the times where they are seriously acting, they joke and talk. He makes funny comments instead of saying the lines he's supposed to, while Rachel over-exaggerates her lines for a few minutes. The time only strikes her when there's a loud rumbling between the two of them, and she realises that she's absolutely starving. Rachel hasn't eaten since lunch time, and it's now nine o'clock.

(Time flies when you're having fun.)

"Sorry," He seems a little sheepish, which she finds oddly endearing seeing as he never is normally. "My stomach. You got time for a bite to eat?"

"Strictly professional purposes, yes?"

He adopts a mocking serious, stern expression, "Why of course. How could you doubt that?" She laughs and surprises herself by allowing him to escort her to a place nearby.

* * *

Heeey folks, so what did you think? A little confusing. I'll break it down: Quinn and Puck were about to kiss in her room, Santana and Brittany walk in and Quick takes that as their opportunity to scatter. Of course, because of this, it is in fact Brittana that Kurt walks in on. Sorry for any confusion :)  
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!  
CN

Disclaimer: I do not own Friends, Glee or "Accidentally in Love" by the Counting Crows.


	13. The One That Finn Takes Control In

Chapter Thirteen: The One That Finn Takes Control In

_xiii: God only knows what we're fighting for. All that I say, you always say more._

"Is this really necessary?" Puck grumbles, settling into the settee in the girls apartment. Quinn and Kurt sit either side of him, while Brittany occupies the empty armchair. All of them are staring up at Santana at the top of the room, but each expression is rather different. Puck doesn't see why they're there – he could be doing much better things with his time than going to stupid 'meetings.' Did he mention that they're unnecessary?

"Yes." Santana snaps, barely throwing him a glance. "Look, I just wanted to talk to you about what you saw – or what you _thought_ you –"

"I know what I saw, Santana," Kurt spits, "Don't try and plant untrue statements in my head."

"I knew I should have talked to you separately.." She mutters, and then nods. "You saw me and Brittany, having a girls night in."

"Is that what you call it?" Quinn and Puck are unable to stop looking back and forth between the match: Kurt Vs. Santana. It was always going to be epic, but neither quite imagined it being concerning these kind of circumstances. Kurt's bitchy, Puck will give him that, but he's no Santana.

"What would you call it, porcelain?"

"Mature, very mature. Name-calling is definitely a defensive reaction, now what is it you're defending?"

She stutters in a way that is so uncharacteristic, even Puck is struck dumb. Brittany speaks as if it's obvious then, "Her relationship with Blaine."

Kurt snorts, "You can't call that a relationship."

"Excuse me?" Santana is angry now, Puck can see the smoke billowing from her ears. Figuratively, of course. Although that would be cool, he ponders. Losing himself in that thought for a moment, Puck is drawn back as Quinn nudges him and whispers something about it getting good.

"…. So although I think that everyone has a right to come out when they're ready, this is unfair. You can't just _cheat _with no repercussions and expect it to be all okay because you're gay. Don't ruin the reputation of the rest of us. Stop trying to cover up the fact that you and Blaine are just beards for each other, or lie and tell us that you're a big slut who'll go for anything with a pulse!" He's standing now, and towards the end, Kurt is shouting at Santana. They're merely inches away from each other. For once in his life, Kurt appears foreboding and almost dangerous. Santana, who has been growing angrier with each word, finally lets her hand collide with his cheek at the last syllable.

Their chests are heaving, and his head is titled to the side as the slap echoes through all of them. Puck has an uncomfortable sensation that he rarely experiences, and quietly asks Quinn if they should leave. To his chagrin, she thinks they need to stay and supervise.

Kurt raises his head following several painstaking moments. Venom is laced in his features, and there's disgust in his eyes. "I hope you feel better about yourself now." He turns on his heel and swiftly begins to exit.

Santana takes two steps after him, and calls out, "Kurt!" He stops, but fails to turn. "Don't … Don't tell anyone else, please?"

There's no response as the door closes far too softly. The silence weighs heavily upon the remaining occupants of the room, all frozen in their positions. Quinn nods subtly to Puck and they follow Kurt out. Puck squeezes Santana's shoulder briefly on the way out, while Quinn grabs her hand for a moment. Looks like she'll be staying in the boys apartment tonight. If she had of known that staying in her bedroom that day two weeks ago would lead to this, Quinn would have happily left with Sam.

She hasn't been able to function properly with anyone except Kurt and Puck. Deathly afraid of spilling a secret and ruining someone.

* * *

It's been a week since Kurt fought with Santana. Nearly four since Rachel and Finn last spoke. Quinn and Mike, too. He hasn't spent time with any of his girl friends either, nor has he spoken with Puck. So, in conclusion, the only people in his friend group that he has spoken to lately is Finn and Mike. He's still unsure on how he feels about the whole situation, still uncertain if he did the right thing.

None of them met up last Friday. Thanksgiving was the other night, too, and the traditional dinner they all have in the girls apartment failed to take place. Kurt doesn't know how it escalated so much to the point where they're not spending time together anymore, but he does know he's not going to be the one to fix it. Kurt's not the bigger person, nor is he the one in the wrong. Rachel usually takes a role in fixing these things, or Finn, but they're both so caught up in their own argument that Kurt thinks they're not even fully aware of the other _situation. _It does have to be solved though.

"You okay, man? Been kinda quiet lately." Finn sits down in the armchair beside his, picks up the remote and turns on the tv.

Kurt returns to his position of staring blankly at the tv, head leaning on fist. He sighs, "I'm not okay, actually. None of us are okay. If you and Rachel could for one moment look outside your private bubble of jealousy, lust and stupidity you'd see the rest of us haven't spoken in a while. Thanksgiving went by without so much as a greeting across the hall, don't you find that strange? Of course not, because you think it's all about Rachel and Finn."

"Woah, I did not deserve that. If you've got your own problems, don't blame them on me." Finn's staring at him with some confusion in his eyes, and then shakes his head, "We'll host a post-Thanksgiving dinner then. There's no need to get so pent up about it. Yeah, we've all been experiencing some other things, but me and you can cook up a night in."

Kurt debates this for a second. He said he wasn't going to be the one to fix this, but it doesn't really count as him fixing it, does it? He could help with cooking, and then step back. It's not a bad idea either, and the time apart from everyone is making him feel angsty. He has gossip for Rachel and Quinn, but has been so adamant in not going over to their apartment that he hasn't seen them. Rachel cancelled the one time she was supposed to come over to his for a movie.

It's strange, because usually, the girls would frequently walk into their apartment and vice versa. It's beyond strange to not have any of that anymore. People have had fights before, but it seems as if everyone fought at once this time.

He wants to be okay with Santana again, but a large part of him is just so _angry. _She's cheating on Blaine, so openly and nonchalantly, with no apparent emotion of guilt or regret. That said, she is capable of shielding emotion very well. Even so, Kurt reckons it's more than that. Which leads him to believe that Blaine is hiding something, too.

Yes, he had contemplated the fact that this theory could just be Kurt _wishing _it is true. However, he now confidently believes that Blaine is gay. Not only are there too many signs that he miraculously missed before, but also both Puck and Rachel have mentioned it to him. Therefore, he isn't the only one with suspicions. Besides, it makes so much more sense. It started off as a real relationship between the two, but as they grew closer, things slipped and one couldn't keep up the charade anymore. Hey-presto, conversation of 'we're _both _gay?'. Now, it could very well be Kurt's imagination cooking up a storm here, but once it came into his mind, he couldn't shake the idea of Santana and Blaine being beards.

Kurt then realises that Finn is still looking at him for an answer, and manages a small smile, "I think that would be a good idea."

He's also infuriated because Santana asked him not to say anything. _Of course _he wouldn't say anything. He knows from first-hand experience how hard coming out can be, how different factors have to be considered and how some people must be told in person. Kurt understands, more than any of their friends, so for her to actually ask him for the secret to be kept offends him a little. Does she not know him at all?

He knows he's overreacting.

Finn jumps out of his seat then, giving Kurt the fright of his life so that he lets out a small squeal. "Finn!"

"Let's do it tonight, Kurt!"

He raises an eyebrow, "Tonight? Finn, it's six o'clock. What time are you planning on having dinner?"

"You can do something by seven, can't you? I'll go across to the girls and tell them – Rachel won't be easy to convince. I'll stop by Mike's then, ring Puck at work. We can do this, dude!" His goofy smile is firmly in place, which always manages to persuade Kurt.

He's still sceptical though. "I can't cook anything by seven.. that's not possible. Not anything thanksgiving-worthy anyway."

"Let's do take-out!"

Kurt laughs, "Take-out? For a thanksgiving dinner? That may just be the most tacky thing I've ever heard of."

"Cheap, not tacky. Yeah, and we know everyone's order by now. It'll be nice! We'll do a fancy table to bring the sophistication."

"We have a four seater table."

"Can't you give me some help instead of negatives?" Finn asks, exasperated but joking. "We'll get the food and bring it to the girls then. Do you want to tell everyone, or get the food?"

He winces, "Get the food. Definitely get the food."

"Good, you may as well pick Puck up on your way home. Tell him he has no choice. We're sorting this shit out _tonight._" Finn pulls open the front door, holding Kurt's jacket out for him and his bag.

"What's the rush?" He takes the jacket and pulls it on.

Finn shrugs, following Kurt out the door. "You're right, this has gone too far. It's time to end it!"

* * *

Standing in the girls sitting room, trying desperately to convince them of his brilliant idea seemed a lot easier in his head. Finn hadn't anticipated such a backlash, such an apathetic nature to the state of their relationships. He doesn't back down when he wants something though (maybe that's part of his problem with Rachel) and continues to badger. Puck is so much better at annoying people until they agree, he thinks wryly.

"Okay, so what are the cons?"

"Well, thanksgiving would have Blaine and Sam. Where are Blaine and Sam?" Santana asks, not even raising her eyes from her magazine.

Finn huffs, "I'll ask Kurt to get them on the way. Do you guys not care anymore? Do you mind living separately instead of together? We're a family, let's not throw that away for some stupid arguments between some of us. I don't even know what the story is with you guys!"

"You know, I'm still not giving up my gay theory," Santana says to Rachel, who is sitting with her at the table. Rachel is reading through her script and adopts a worse attitude than Santana; she doesn't look up _or _respond.

(He hates that.)

"Rach?" Finn wishes he could have a stronger will around her, but there's something about Rachel Berry that makes him susceptible to her charms. Charms that others would doubt even existed.

She still doesn't look at him. "Yes, Finn?"

"Will you come?" His voice is soft, hoping she'll see how hard he's trying to bridge the gap.

"Is it true you invited Kurt to your Glee clubs performance?"

"Yeah, but—"

Her eyes raise then. Finn dislikes how they shine – and not in a good way – and he hates himself for the anger she expresses, "How could you? That was our thing, Finn. Every year since you started I've gone with you… And now this? Over some stupid casting?"

"You didn't let me finish. But I'd do anything to have you there instead.."

"Oh, gag." Santana exclaims, standing and throwing her magazine on the table. She proceeds to walk out the door, to his delight towards their apartment, and calls out, "Just get your freak on already."

Finn only smiles at her, before looking back at Rachel and holding out his hand to her, "Rachel? I'm sorry, I really am. I guess I was afraid of letting you down… I felt not playing Roger meant I let you down."

After a few minutes, a small grin blooms and she accepts his hand, "Don't be that stupid ever again."

Finn nods and gestures for her to go out the door. He still has work to do, mainly getting Brittany and Quinn on board. His mind debates Rachel as he waits for them. He wonders how he ever let their argument stretch this far, and how he could have been so stupid and blind. What made him so crazy? He completely overreacted and it took all of his friends falling apart for him to see that. Finn makes a promise to never be so stupid again, but he probably will. At least he has good intentions, right?

Assuring himself that that makes all the difference, he knocks on Quinn's door. "Quinn? I'm coming in, okay?" Gingerly opening the door, Finn pokes his head in following no response. To his relief – not that he would hate a naked Quinn, but it could only complicate matters – she's sitting at her desk, typing away on the laptop. He leans against her door, studying her as she studiously pretends he's not there.

There's always been an intensely private side to Quinn that very few people see, and despite her friendly nature in her adult years, she's highly reserved. Closed-off. This is mistaken for being cold, but he knows better – he guesses he should after all these years. They've dated in high school – twice – hence Finn likes to think he knows a bit more about how Quinn Fabray works than the average friend. Average friend being a select few in their group and anyone outside that.

However, he's stumped as to why she's ignoring him now, so clears his throat. Slowly, he walks in and sits on her bed. She's still typing away. "What are you working on?" Start off slow, Hudson, nice.

The tapping on the keyboard continues until suddenly, the lets her hands fall away and leans back. "Just some casual stuff. Everything okay, Finn?"

"Not really. My friends aren't talking, and I seem to be the one who always has to save the day."

She smiles, "You do, don't you?"

"It's my shot at being the hero." He jokes, but there's an awful truth to those words. Finn decides to be serious then when he see's the time on her laptop. "Look, we're having a thanksgiving dinner. Call Sam over, it'll be a buffet of sorts. We all need to get sorted."

Quinn simply looks at him before nodding and giving him a grin again, "Sounds good to me. You certainly have your moments, Finn Hudson." To his utter surprise, she comes over at gives him a hug. They stay like that for a while on her bed, holding close. He gets the feeling that she needs this, that she's felt as cut off as the rest of them.

"What's up, Quinn?"

The moment is broken as she pulls away and shakes her head, "Oh, nothing really. I'm just lost is all. By the way, I'm not-not talking with anyone, if that makes any sense?"

His head hurts. But he follows. "Except Mike?"

Quinn laughs, "Except Mike. All he has to do is apologise though… I can't take every parent jab to heart, now can I?"

* * *

_Hey guys! Thanks for all your reviews, they've been wonderful :) Don't forget to vote in the poll on my page! I'd like to announce that, to my old readers, we are finally up to date. Took longer than I anticipated, but that shouldn't be a surprise really as I'm never on time with anything. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)_

_I don't own Glee, Friends or "Turning Tables" by Adele._  
_CN _


	14. The One With a Few Surprises

Chapter Fourteen: The One With A Few Surprises. (Or not.)

_XIV: This could be the end of everything. So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?_

As it would have it, they end up in the boys apartment, scattered across whatever available surface is available. The two armchairs are turned to face the kitchen – Puck and Finn claimed those almost immediately – while Kurt, Quinn, Blaine and Sam sit at the table. Santana and Rachel are sitting rather close on the counter, due to there being no room. Brittany happily takes a spot on the floor and Mike does the same grudgingly. He's glad he's sitting beside Brittany though, as despite them being largely polar opposites, he gets along with her very well and there's nothing to sitting beside her.

No one speaks as Kurt passes around the food, no one having to ask who owns what after many years of take-out. Mike knows there's something he's missing; the tension is palpable, and for reasons he's not sure of. He has been keeping to himself as he needed some personal time, but now wonders what has gone on in his absence. He accepts his beef dish gladly, pouring it onto his plate with little fuss or noise. The clinking of knives and forks echo through the room until Sam accidently scrapes his along his plate, creating a loud, irritating screeching noise that causes them all to wince.

He sends everyone a lop-sided grin, "Sorry guys." Everyone accepts that without much reply, and he continues hesitantly, "So, this is thanksgiving with you guys, eh?"

Rachel straightens her back, and adopts her factual tone, "Actually Sam, usually it's a very pleasant occasion that occurs on the day of thanksgiving. Kurt and I cook a magnificent dinner which we all sit down to, then we watch our traditional movie before breaking the drinks out."

"Where are the drinks?" Puck questions, is gaze somewhat accusing and directed at Finn.

He shrugs, "It was a quick decision, dude. Didn't have time to get everything."

Santana lets out a heavy sigh, "The most important part, and you forgot it. Good job, Finnocence. Like a boss."

Finn is about to respond, when Rachel cuts across, "You don't have to be so mean, Santana. Alcohol isn't necessary."

"Oh, please, are you for real? You just made up with him and you're already running at his heels. Grow a backbone, Berry."

"Excuse me?"

"Santana, stop." Quinn tells her sharply, surprising the Latina. Kurt nods wearily from beside her, pushing his food around his plate in a dejected manner.

"Of course, your majesty. I'm so honoured you've finally decided to speak to me!" Her eyes are blazing, but Quinn can see the hurt, too. Quinn's been studiously avoiding her for a while now, so she isn't surprised that Santana wants to take her on. What is surprising her, is the fact that she's doing it in front of everyone. Does she _want_ Quinn to spill the beans? She decides that she doesn't care, she's not getting involved. Because of this resolve, Quinn only shakes her head as a response.

"What movie do you guys watch every year?" Blaine asks with curiosity, and also trying desperately to break the tension. He's one of those people who aim to please, always trying to make everyone happy all of the time. He hates silence, and furthermore, awkward silences. Tension just about kills him.

The corner of Rachel's mouth rises, "You're not going to believe it… but you know the movie Casablanca? It's my doing, I suppose. I had to convince them to for the first few years, but eventually it became something we all loved. For different reasons, obviously. I love the romance – he never forgets her, and he'll do anything for her."

"You think so? I always thought he was a bit of an asshole." Blaine comments.

Mike rolls his eyes, "Are you more romantic than Rick then, Blaine?"

Before anyone can react, Santana spits, "Lay off, Mike. What the fuck is your problem?"

"_My_ problem?" He questions, astonished. "I don't have a problem – you're the one who is with the egocentric."

Rachel jumps off the counter into a standing position, trying to calm everyone with useless words that fall upon deaf ears. Santana is bulling once more – her temper really isn't useful to any of them – while Mike looks contemptuous. Blaine sits slack-jawed in his chair, unaware of what to say. He does what's best and stays out of is; this actually isn't his battle.

"God, this shows how much you don't know him. You're an idiot. Stop being so self-absorbed, arrogant and fucking judgemental. _Mi dios!"_

"I'm arrogant? Oh, that's rich."

Quinn stands then, approaching Mike with caution in her eyes, "What is up with you lately? Is there something wrong?"

Santana bursts out again, her voice not half as soft and gentle as Quinn's, "Yeah, what you been hiding that you're taking it out on everyone else?"

It's at this point that Kurt bursts out laughing, one could even say hysterically. There's tears in his eyes, his cheeks are flushed and he's only emitting sounds for air every few seconds. He sighs contentedly at the end, shaking his head, "Oh Santana, you are funny. Hypocritical was never something I penned you as."

"What the hell is going on? You guys are insane these days, and I don't even know why." Finn interjects with an amount of authority in his voice. Rachel nods fervently, which causes Santana to roll her eyes. She's about to comment on their self-absorption, when Kurt speaks again.

"Don't you dare give out to Mike. Instead of criticising, why don't you offer help?"

Rachel's mobile starts ringing loudly. She hurriedly takes it out and checks for caller id, following which she excuses herself and steps outside the apartment. No one pays much attention, but there is a growing uncomfortable feeling in the room.

"That's it. What's going on?" Finn demands.

Puck shakes his head, "Man, leave it. Let's go.. They need to sort things out." He tugs at his friends arm, but Finn wrenches it back. He's frustrated with the secrecy and how he seems to be the only one in the dark. Sam and Blaine are exchanging puzzled glances, both harbouring the desire to leave.

"No! I deserve to know. Why does everyone know but me?"

Again, that same old silence washes over the room. Santana walks over to the window, gathering her thoughts and calming herself. Brittany is still sitting on the ground, fidgeting with her shoes now – she hates confrontation. Mike leans back against the counter both Rachel and Santana have vacated before speaking quietly, "I hated Blaine at first because he was with you." She turns, shock coating her features. He scoffs, "Don't pretend you didn't know." Santana fails to respond, only waiting for him to speak again. Mike shrugs his shoulders somewhat awkwardly, "Then I realised I wasn't really in love with you. You're not the type of person I want to be with; you're too difficult, and too dominant for me."

Santana struggles not to take that as an insult and succeeds. She risks a glance at her boyfriend, who is staring at a spot on the table of food. The food remains mostly untouched, and certainly no one is willing to eat now. Except Finn and Puck, that is, who are back in their seats, watching the scene unfold with their dinners on their laps. "Okay." She takes a breath, attempting to be understanding. "Okay. So what's up now?"

He looks Blaine straight in the eye, who has the good fortune of raising his head at that moment. Out of interest, or because he felt Mike's stare, Blaine's not sure. He does want to know the response. "I'm jealous of you. You have everything and everyone in the palm of your hand; money, a job you love, a person you love, charisma and the ability to command a rooms attention. You're fucking perfect."

Blaine opens his mouth to reply several times, and it takes him a few tries before he finally does say something. "M-Mike.. I'm not perfect. I don't have everything, I just give off the illusion that I have everything. I'm…" He trails off, his eyes also trailing but eventually leading to Santana.

Mike finishes the sentence, "I'm lost. I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I don't know what I want anymore.. but I'm not happy. I'm not happy." He repeats, more final this time. "Quinn, I'm sorry for the jab about your parents. I didn't mean it like that – and I hate making people feel bad about themselves. This isn't me."

Quinn walks over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder and leaning down so she can look into his eyes which are downcast. "I know you're not like this... But what's wrong? If you tell me, then I can _help."_

"You're depressed, aren't you?" Puck asks with an intense stare.

The man shrugs again a little, "I don't know. Is unhappy depressed? I… I don't think I'm depressed."

"I think it says a lot that none of us noticed," Finn announces, and he sounds regretful.

"We all had things going on. I don't know what to do though… What do I do?"

Quinn smiles half-heartedly, "Do something that makes you happy." As if it's the easiest thing in the world.

"But money – I don't have – I need –"

"Forget about that, man. Big picture is more important… Take a short break, then go back into the world and find something you really love." Finn's expression is earnest and concerned. Mike nods slowly, and Finn abruptly pulls him in for a hug. Of course, it's one of those usual hugs that men give.

"Sorry for being such a drag, guys." He chuckles. Exhaling, he tells them, "I should have told you earlier.. you're right."

Sam looks up at Quinn, hoping she'll get the message that he's dying to leave. These aren't his close friends, he feels like he is intruding upon a private moment. Which he is. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be listening to all of this deeply personal conversation. Quinn shakes her head indicating that he couldn't leave, so he leans back in his chair with a sigh. He notices that Blaine's eyes are locked with Santana, neither of them speaking, but a conversation definitely happening. He can't deny that they have a connection, but there's something different, too.

Soon after this thought, Santana breaks their stare and looks around at her friends. "You know what? I—I've been struggling with some things.. I've been struggling for far too long, actually. Many years. It's always been difficult to come to terms with some things, and then I met Blaine. I wish you guys got to know him better, cause he's so much better than you." She jokes, trying to break up the tension she feels is closing in on her.

Kurt stops her, "You don't have to do this, I'm sorry for calling you out and pressuring you. This isn't how it's supposed to happen. It's on your terms."

She acknowledges him with a smile, "These are my terms, porcelain. Just don't go singing or some sappy shit like that. Truth is everyone, I'm in love." Rachel enters the room then, a small smile on her face and completely distracted from the situation at hand. It takes her a moment to realise what she left behind, but the thought immediately sobers her.

Rachel raises her brows cautiously, "What's going on?"

"San—Santana's in love." Finn's eyes are wide in disbelief. He looks at Blaine in wonder. The man shakes his head subtly, a small smile gracing his features. Everyone else seems a bit astounded, not to mention speechless.

Rachel looks at her, "What? What do you mean you're in love?"

Brittany speaks for the first time that evening, her voice sounding child-like and lost. It's lacking the customary warmth and happiness she reeks, "You're in love with him?"

"God, Brit, no. I—I'm in love with you." She releases a nervous laugh, "This so isn't how I wanted to say this, and I feel like I'm in some disgusting lifetime movie, but it's true. Now is as good a time as any. Blaine.. Blaine's been helping me. We've been helping each other."

"You're a lesbian?" Finn asks in shock, always late to the party. He appears completely gob-smacked, and stays frozen for a while, trying to process it.

"I thought we all knew that?" Rachel asks, confused. She then looks at the two, "I didn't know you were in love though.. I mean, we all knew you sometimes enjoyed each others company a little _too much._ But I thought it was just… experimenting until the real thing."

Brittany throws her arms around Santana, who hugs her back tightly. She pulls away, holding onto the Latina's hands tightly. "I thought you'd forever be locked in the closet."

"So did I," She admits quietly.

"This is ridiculous. What the fuck happened to us? This is like some sap-fest in a chick-flick, or some shit on Springer. I'm out, knew this already, it's hot and great, blah blah." With that, Puck exits the room. It's not long before everyone does the same, leaving Brittany and Santana alone. What happens from there is anyone's guess.

* * *

Sooo.. thoughts would be appreciated! The next chapter is kind of just what happens after this scene. I was going to include it, but then I realised that the chapters are catching up to my writing so I have to write more before I update this. I'll hopefully update mid-week, but you never really know with me... Don't forget to vote in my poll! And, anything you'd like to see more of, just ask :)

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, Friends or "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!  
CN.


	15. The One With The Bonding

Chapter Fifteen: The One With The Bonding

_XV: So if by the time the bar closes, you feel like falling down, I'll carry you home tonight._

Eight friends sit in the bar, a newly rejuvenated spirit among them. It seems like it's been too long since they've been this way, hence revelling in the moment is the order of the night. They're of course at Puck's bar, as they do love tradition, and pass around the drinks as everyone pledges to take a turn in buying a round. They're poor, but even Mike pitches in in making everyone feel better, citing savings on not doing thanksgiving properly a sign that they can afford a night out. The only two not drinking are Kurt and Sam, the two designated drivers. They don't mind being sober, as alcohol isn't a requirement of the night to enjoy it.

Rachel raises her glass, "To great friends and happiness." At this, everyone groans and lowers the glass. It's a simultaneous reaction that then has everyone laughing.

Puck pulls a face, "I don't know if I can toast to such a sappy sentiment."

"Yes, as nice a sentiment as it is, Rach.." Quinn trails off, laughing. She enjoys seeing this side to Rachel again and takes a moment to express amusement in her personality quirks. They're currently sitting in a large booth in the corner, she tucked under Sam's arm with Rachel on her other side. The small brunette is full of energy, with a certain twinkle in her eyes that Quinn hasn't seen in a while. Beside Sam sits a jovial Blaine, and Kurt engages him in witty conversation as they all converse. The table sits in between them and Finn, Puck and Mike, who pulled up stools to squeeze in. Santana and Brittany are missing, but this doesn't faze anyone, as they deserve time to talk and sort things out; it's been coming a long time.

The more Quinn thinks about it, the more she wonders why she didn't just confront her friends. She supposes it was due to her own 'ignorance is bliss' take on it, combined with the fact that they should come out on their own terms. Perhaps Quinn didn't consider it quite a serious relationship as it is also, which she takes complete blame for. Regardless of reasons and factors, she certainly has no problem with it, and neither do any of their friends. Having Kurt – who could be called quite a flamboyant gay – as a friend has definitely made them comfortable with being friends with homosexuals. Not that it would ever be a problem, but some people have difficulty remaining comfortable in their presence at first.

As this thought crosses her mind, Quinn wonders what Sam thinks of it. She can't imagine it would be anything less than supportive, he being the sweet and caring man he is. Sometimes, she can't grasp the concept that they're together. She can honestly say she's never had a man like Sam before; so attentive, so adoring, so loving, so caring. It touches her, warming her heart and often causing her knees to go weak. On top of this, he's funny but in a goofy way that makes it all the more adorable, and he's gorgeous. She glances up at him, noting how he laughs so freely and openly. There's no inhibition or constraint, he's just _Sam _all the time. It's so refreshing that she hopes it'll rub off on her, and she drinks it in greedily.

Her gaze catches his attention almost immediately. Sam sends her one of his crooked grins, causing her heart to beat a little faster, before winking. Quinn can't help herself any longer; she pulls him in for a quick kiss. It lasts only a moment, but it's enough. His arm tightens around her as he pulls away. Quinn doesn't know if she's ever felt so secure.

(It's enough to make her forget about her nearly scene with Puck weeks ago. Because it's been on her mind far too much, for far too long.)

Rachel watches this interaction with interest, but doesn't comment. She's been better lately at holding her tongue, more adept at keeping her mouth closed when the time isn't right. It's taken her enough years, she supposes. That's not to say Rachel's perfect at it, but there have been some serious developments.

Thoughts of Quinn's love life assail her as she watches though. For some reason, that right now she can't provide much support for, Rachel had always assumed Quinn and Puck would find each other again when the time is right. She's been of the opinion that they are kindred spirits; that they are their other halves. She's nearly sure the rest of her friends thought the same thing – except Puck and Quinn, however; she's not so sure. They have a undeniable pull to each other, and share a connection that none of them will ever understand or be apart of – but maybe it's nothing to do with love. Well, romantic love.. perhaps that's platonic love. Rachel used to consider herself somewhat of an expert in love, but she's come to realise that she knows very little on the matter and her heart is always in conflict. (Not always.)

It's purely coincidental that at that moment she senses someone watching her, causing Rachel to glance up and catch Finn Hudson's eye. He shoots her a small smile, one that has a degree of shyness to it which baffles her. The crinkles around his eyes tell her that it's sincere though, and she returns it.

Puck ruins the moment by nudging Finn, "Tell her how wrong he is, Huddy. I was the badass heartthrob of the school."

Finn lingers on her for a minute more before dragging his eyes to the others. He nods to Blaine, rolling his eyes with great exaggeration, "Puck was a self-proclaimed badass heartthrob. I was the real heartthrob."

Sam lets out his now familiar comforting laugh. Yes, Rachel said he has a comforting laugh – there's something incredibly soothing about the smooth, deep and utterly sincere laugh he possesses. She studies how he strokes Quinn's arm, constantly touching her, as he converses with everyone else. He counters Puck by confessing that he was a dork up until his final two years of school, when he transferred. Truth be told, Sam Evans has contradicted everything Rachel thought Quinn wanted in a man, everything she thought would be in their future. A Quick wedding – following buckets of drama – had always been an event in the distant future, but now, Rachel is actually beginning to believe that Sam is the one for Quinn.

He's _good _for her. Uncomplicated, sweet, nice, handsome Sam. He's not a pushover either, which is welcomed. Rachel sighs. (She struggles to maintain that she hasn't met her prince charming yet, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to prove that to herself.)

"Rachel? Are you even listening to me?"

She jumps, realising that Quinn is speaking to her. It seems the boys have started a conversation regarding cars – one that Kurt is attempting vigorously to take part in, for whatever reasons. She and Quinn have never been interested in mechanics, so she understands the new topic. "Of course." She chirps in response.

She raises a brow, but doesn't push the matter. "No matter. Miss Rachel Berry, I've been meaning to ask, who were you on the phone to earlier?" The signature smirk appears, the one that says Quinn is fishing for information, not to mention that she is going to tease you until she gets it – and when she gets it.

Rachel's never been a good liar. She can act, but not lie – they are different things, you know. She glances at her hands as her eyes always give her away. "Em, what time are you referring to? I don't recall all my calls… Is this one special, or particularly intriguing?"

"Apparently, judging from your reaction. I can't think of what it could be though. An audition? You looked quite happy when you came back in, despite all the craziness." Her gaze is suspicious, but in a playful manner.

The mention of an audition momentarily saddens her, "It's not an audition.." Rachel risks a glance at Finn, then seeing him retelling a story of their glory days to Sam and Blaine, she lowers her voice to a whisper, "It was Jesse – from the theatre."

Quinn's eyebrows instantly raise, "Oh."

"It's not like that! It's about rehearsing lines." She pauses, "And what if it was like that? I'm a free agent, it wouldn't be doing anything wrong." Quinn is still simply staring at her, which is making Rachel increasingly unnerved. "Well? What are you staring at; say something!"

The blonde laughs and reaches for her drink, "You like him."

"No. No, no, I _definitely…. _I don't. He's an ego-centric.. No."

She only smiles in response, appearing rather sceptical. Rachel doesn't feel like trying to convince her though, so she shrugs her shoulders and tunes back into the main conversation. There appears to be an argument on whether Batman would beat Superman in a fight. Rachel see's Quinn roll her eyes and nudge Sam, "I know you instigated this."

His cheeks colour ever so slightly, but he chuckles, "Guilty. But come on, the answer is clearly Batman."

"Dude, Superman has powers." Is Puck's simple response. It appears this is the final remark for Kurt because he sighs loudly and puts his empty glass heavily down on the table. Rachel can tell he's on his way to merryland by the glazed look in his eyes and his loose movements. If one can believe it, Kurt becomes even more flamboyant with alcohol. Gathering everyone's attention, Kurt meets all of their eyes, "This is a boring argument. They are fictional characters, no one cares."

"Edward Cullen is a fictional character … and will never love you."

He gasps and points a threatening finger at Quinn, "You take that back!"

"Not to mention he's all about the chicks," Puck adds. "Although sparkling definitely makes me think otherwise. He's like a by-product of a one night stand between Jubilee and Dracula." Sam opens his mouth to comment on the aforementioned X-men, but Quinn stops him subtly, letting Kurt speak.

"Blasphemy! Wash your mouths out. Now, I must address this question; Blaine, why the hell are you so okay with this?"

Finn whines, "Kurt, do you have to get all serious?"

"I must." He says in mock-seriousness. This mocking doesn't last long however as he's soon looking back at Blaine. "So?"

The charmer looks down and swishes his drink a little, "Well.. A little into our dating, she didn't seem too into it anymore. I felt like she was constantly forcing emotions and holding a guard… One night, a couple of bottles of wine and a heart-to-heart led to us being completely honest with each other."

Kurt is aware of how he had been probing in asking that question, but his accusation towards Santana days back are still fresh in his mind. All of him still hopes beyond comprehension that Blaine is gay, but this severely impacts on his ability to judge. He needs to either get a confession, or ask someone else's opinion. After hearing Blaine's explanation, he has more questions; 'both being completely honest', meaning he told Santana something? Or perhaps he really did just mean Santana confessed to him. All of the twists and turns make Kurt's head spin – the alcohol does not help – and it's decided he'll think on it in the morning.

The girls are giggling uncontrollably as Sam does a dreadful impression of Sean Connery, while Finn joins in with his deep chuckle. Blaine is watching intently as he attempts to do one afterwards and Puck seems to be thinking – which is never good.

Either way, Kurt's pretty happy right about now.

* * *

At an ungodly hour, they are unceremoniously thrown out of the pub and onto the streets. Sam raises the point of returning home, and continuing their shindig there if that's what people want. Kurt feels sorry for him, because he couldn't drink alcohol, and so agrees immediately to this proposal. Not to mention that Blaine also hasn't had any alcohol – which honestly has nothing to do with Kurt, but he feels that the man deserves a drink.

However, Puck groans at this suggestion, "Why don't we just hit the clubs?"

"At two in the morning?" Quinn counters, "Sounds like a blast for those two hours."

"Clubbing!" Rachel cheers loudly, then collapses into a fit of giggles. "where in the world is my phone? I want to send a text…" she begins patting her clothes for the phone before moving onto rooting through her bag. It's not long before she's sitting on the granite, bag in front of her, pulling everything onto the floor. Sam sits down beside her, trying to coax her into placing everything back into the bag. Rachel doesn't seem all that interested in what he's saying though, and is instead blabbing on about finding her phone. Sam throws his hands into the air in exasperation and tells her to work away, leaving her to go to Quinn.

It's decided that Blaine would take Puck, Kurt, Mike and Finn while Sam would take Rachel and Quinn. Sam finds himself highly amused by the antics of the two girls, who are sitting on the back seat of his car. They're both giggling hysterically every few minutes, and then plotting how to set one of the guys up with a girl. Complaints on being the only two girls are repeated throughout the ride, to which he replies that they secretly love it. He doesn't miss however that they never pair either Finn or Puck with anyone, who he would have thought were the most eligible of the bachelors. Kurt being gay, and Mike being Mike. It stumps him (or maybe he remains purposefully oblivious) until he asks them straight out, "Have you no friends for Puck or Finn?"

There's a small silence as the question is digested and processed – this takes longer than usual in their condition. Rachel is the first to react, when she outright laughs at the question. She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head at him, "Silly Sam!"

He takes a minute to react to that, and goes to reply when Rachel jumps in her seat, "Oh! Where's my phone? I had it two minutes ago.. Here!" She holds it triumphantly in the air, but not for long, as she begins to punch a number into it.

Quinn rolls her eyes, and clumsily tries to snatch it, "Give me that! You're not ringing Finn, it's a recipe for disaster."

"I'm not ringing Finn." She replies candidly, holding the phone to the ear out of Quinn's reach. The blonde shrugs and returns to singing along loudly to the song on the radio, much to Rachel's chagrin. She shouts loudly into the phone, "Jesse? Heeeeyyyy Jess, I just thought I'd call yooouuu.."

"I just called, to say, you annoy me…" she sings to the tune of Stevie Wonders famous song. Sam can hear the man reply on the other hand, surprised to find it's not a voicemail. She's certainly not giving him a word edgewise – but then again, it is Rachel. Unfortunately, he can only hear Rachel's replies. Mostly because Quinn is still singing her heart out. (He hadn't known she was good, actually.)

"Of course I like you really. It's just a song.. but you do annoy me….when? You annoy me when you do that thing that annoys me. Duh… You _know_ the thing, Jesse…" She giggles uncontrollably here, "I do think you're hot… Yep. One of the hottest people I know!"

Sam winces as the conversation continues. Jesse is certainly taking advantage, and Rachel is _certainly _going to regret that call in the morning.

* * *

Okay.. so you know what's coming: I'm so sorry for the wait! I'm just not feeling writing lately, so please forgive the late updates. The poll on my page is interesting indeed btw! Quite a few Quick fans in our midst... Anyway, leave a review please, let me know what you think :) Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I not own Glee, Friends or "We are Young" by Fun. Wonderful song.

CN.


	16. The One Where Brittany Has An Anouncemen

Chapter Sixteen: The One Where Brittany has an Announcement and The Show Opens.

_XVI: There's only two types of people in this world; the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe. Well, baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kind of girl._

**_December 10th._**

There's something one should know about this group of friends – if one did not already – and that's that they are all vastly different. This applies to a range of topics, such as sports, religion, politics, food, nacho dip, Puck's hair and so on. It comes as no surprise then that they're attitude to the most celebrated holiday also differs from person to person. There are those that are ecstatically excited for it; Brittany, Sam, Finn and Rachel. The ones who only feel the excitement on Christmas Eve and the actual day; Quinn, Puck and Blaine. Finally, there are those who deem it an overhyped and cheesy holiday, and could very easily be compared to a Grinch; Santana and Kurt.

Most find it a shock to discover that the flamboyant and lover of all things flashy Kurt Hummel rejects the hype of Christmas, but it's true. He rejects Christianity, but believes the holiday isn't even primarily associated with Christianity anymore or it's original purpose – this also often leads to arguments with the Jews, Rachel and Puck. He hates having to buy people he doesn't like gifts, and he detests being forced into a bright, red, hideous sweater. (Ok, the last one may have something to do with Rachel.)

Santana comes as no surprise. She hates the sentimentality of a day that should have no meaning to her; it's not her birthday, or her friends, and it's no one death – it's nothing that should have a meaning to her. Yet, her friends make her buy them presents, be happy – how dare they – and act like the Messiah has arrived.

All in all, this conflict of opinions always leads to a round of groans from just about everyone when Rachel announces it's Kris Kindle time. Every year, they gather in the sitting room, with a hat and everyone's names written delicately by Rachel on perfectly rectangle pieces of 2x2 cm of paper. Of course, it's all very precise – could you believe anything else?

Usually, there is a boyfriend or girlfriend included if they're close enough to the group, and this year Rachel has accepted both Sam _and _Blaine. This is unusual to anyone who knows Rachel, as she doesn't often let people into her elite Christmas group. Especially in such a short space of time, but the two men fit in seamlessly with the rest. Perhaps they aren't equally close to everyone, but for the most part, they both get along very well with some members and well enough with the others.

Rachel stands at the top of the room, a bright Hollywood smile on her face. She's practically shaking in her shoes with anticipation as she reeks a sense of that jovial spirit. It comes off of her in waves once it hits December, and one can often find her humming Christmas tunes as she works, cleans or walks anywhere. Her eyes are as bright as her smile – and just as wide. She shakes the hat theatrically, "Are we ready?"

"What if I'm not?" Santana counters, eyeing the woman.

"You don't count." Rachel promptly tells her happily.

Kurt raises his hand, "Do I?" The girl shakes her head, her expression telling how silly she thinks he is. Puck sighs loudly and dramatically to draw her attention, but it fails. He then clears his throat and begins a coughing fit, which eventually causes Rachel to huff and turn to him in the middle of.

"Puck, you cannot spend less than fifty dollars on your kindle."

"But I spend _so _much time with you guys, surely you know how I feel!"

"It's not about feelings, it's about getting someone something they deserve after a long year." Brittany tells him wisely, which knocks him for two. He falls back into the couch quietly, all the while keeping his eyes on Brittany, thinking her to be suspicious.

She speaks again then, "I just hope I don't get Blaine. That could be awkward."

The man in question laughs, "I think it'd be fine, Brittany." There seems to be a collective feeling of relief at those words, and Kurt starts to think on why Blaine is so accepted by them. His response to Brittany is a perfect example though; he takes everything in his stride, and does it all with incredible integrity. He doesn't condescend, he doesn't judge and most of all, he listens. Kurt was, at first, very surprised that everyone still invited Blaine out and asked him over, given that he isn't with Santana anymore. (To be fair, Kurt started it. The others probably followed example.) Now, seeing him interact with everyone so effortlessly, he's surprised that he ever thought it would be different.

The hat is thrust in front of him first, causing him to raise his eyes to meet a very eager Rachel Berry. "You can be first, Kurt."

He glances at Blaine, who smiles back at him encouragingly (naïve boy.), and Kurt wishes silently that he gets the man. Reaching into the hat, he roots around fruitlessly for a moment before withdrawing one that he's sure he touched first. Rachel moves onto Mike beside him, and Kurt unwraps his carefully.

There, in her wonderfully cursive and legible writing,very clearly read: _Santana._

Kurt struggles to keep the grimace off of his face, because god knows she's probably the last person he wants. He supposes they have to get over this bump in their friendship eventually though, and they are both delightfully catty – he'll just get her something to remind her of that. Inconspicuously, he tries to catch onto everyone's expressions as they receive theirs. Some of them are easy to read, like Rachel, Finn and so on while others are more difficult – Santana, Quinn, and so on. He resigns himself to not knowing who is getting him his present, figuring he'll just have to drop hints in front of everyone.

He's startled as he hears a loud clapping, and turns to see Brittany standing at the top of the room. Leaning back against the table holding the TV, much to the distress of Rachel and Quinn, she calls for everyone's attention. Excitedly, she announces, "I have big news guys, so listen to my announcement."

Kurt sends a puzzled look to Mike, who shrugs. "No idea what this is about either, man."

"I'm sure if you stopped talking for two seconds, you'd find out." Santana bites. Kurt and Mike exchange identical looks; they had forgotten she is sitting on the floor, leaning against their legs.

"We're entering phase two of Kurt's campaign!" She says with great enthusiasm, glancing around in anticipation at the occupants of the room. Everyone continues to appear confused, including Santana, and finally Puck speaks.

"Brit, we have no idea what this means."

She sighs exasperatedly, "Of course you don't—"

"How come I don't know what this means?" Kurt asks, affronted.

"That's why I'm telling you now," Brittany responds, as if he is the slowest person she's ever known. Kurt decides then that it's fruitless to attempt to argue with Brittany, and quits on trying to understand. "Now, all this entails guys, is an interactive, animated campaign to get Kurt really popular."

Finn, having never heard Brittany use such words as interactive and animated, is automatically suspicious, "Brittany… what are you asking us to do?"

"Well, you have to do it. It's for Kurt." She says simply, and then produces a bag that Kurt had previously not noticed. Of course, he may have been a little distracted with Brittany's revolutionary plan that he had no part in conniving. No one speaks as she takes out something he can't quite make out, but it doesn't take long for realisation to dawn as she fiddles with the contraption to place it on her head.

It's a stuffed unicorn horn. The one on her head is pink, with glitter lining at the stitching while an elastic black band reaches around to her chin to hold it in place. Kurt can't even begin to think of words, and gapes like a fish for a few minutes. He looks around to the others, to find some – that aren't still staring at Brittany – gawking accusingly at him. Kurt shrugs, shaking his head afterwards. He has no part in this.

"Um, Brittany… I don't think that's a good idea." Puck says to her, his eyebrow quirked with a look of horror deigning his features.

Her face darkens in sadness for a minute, then she pulls out a green unicorn horn, complete with glitter, and a little bit of fur at the bottom, "But I got you a green one! I know you like it 'cause it matches your eyes."

Finn, wanting to escape the situation, tells her sorrowfully, "I don't think they'd fit around my head, sorry. I really wanted to though."

"Oh, don't worry. I got you an adults one!" He gulps, not wanting to know what that means, and sits back into the chair. After that, an array of protests and excuses come from the audience and Brittany argues back with them with nonsensical logic. Problem is, none of them are adept at arguing with nonsensical logic.

In the middle of Rachel's proclamation of how she can't reduce her star quality, Brittany cuts her off. "Oh, and by the way guys, my sister's coming over for Christmas break."

That silences them all.

* * *

While she isn't the most collected of people all of the time, Rachel is always calm, cool and ready before going on stage. Their opening night is no different, even though there's been several issues and she doesn't have the time to help solve anything. She's standing backstage, practicing her breathing and gathering her star quality when he comes over. They've come to some sort of understanding, perhaps formed a pseudo-kinship. Maybe that's just her, but she's sure they've made a connection now.

She no longer wants to stuff soap down his throat every time he talks, and he no longer mocks her (failing) dreams. They both want the same things out of life, they both feel the same passion for music and receive a thrill from acting; the adrenalin rush of the stage affects them both. Something worries Rachel though... and it's not to do with the fact that she enjoys spending time with him, or that her heart beats a little faster when they touch or even that she's going to be sad when they're not working together anymore.

It's the way he looks at her when it's just the two of them – not acting on stage, not surrounded by a crowd, but when they're completely alone. She's afraid she looks at him the same way; it scares more than she ever thought possible. Rachel's number one rule is not falling for a co-star, and she's been brilliant in complying so far. (Except for her teen years, of course. The glee club and Finn is a special exception.)

Furthermore, she's sure that Finn has noticed. There's a shift in their relationship, too. She's less receptive to his jokes, he's more inclined to leave without her after rehearsal, and together, they don't spend as much time together anymore. Rachel's not entirely certain how she feels about that – how she feels about any of this.

Jesse nudges her, "C'mon Berry, don't tell me you're nervous,"

She outright laughs at him, "Do you know who you're talking to, rookie?" He chuckles with her before mentioning something about an understudy falling sick, and that Artie is going crazy looking for an understudy for the understudy. As much as she should be panicking, Rachel's not even fully listening. His smile is that of Hollywood, and his body is one of a dancer. She can't concentrate. She needs to.

"Are you ready, guys? Not long now!" Brittany announces, flouncing over to them excitedly.

Rachel nods, "Of course. A star is always ready for their debut; tonight is no exception, Brit. I know, one would easily think I never get nervous but I have my moments, like everyone else. However, tonight, I am ready for this. Let's hope everyone else cares about this as much as we do, or else this will fall. I can't carry every performance – which, I know, is a bit unbelievable.. So, really, my question is, is everyone else ready?"

"Um.." She stands there, staring at her friend dumbfounded, brow creased in concentration, as Rachel stands waiting expectantly. Jesse is amused by the scene and leans back on the wall to watch it unfold. Rachel is about to open her mouth to talk again, when there's a call for everyone to get ready.

She looks at Brit and smiles, "Showtime. I sure hope our friends are good enough to have made it..."

"They did," Brittany nods fervently. "I saw them, and Finn was talking to them. He's preparing now though."

"Well, looks like it's time. Let's show them all how brilliant I am," At Rachel's glance, Jesse amends, _"we _are. I suppose."

* * *

Brittany can easily say that she's thrilled with how their opening went; it was flawless. Each and every of her dance routines went off without a hitch, and they had all looked so beautiful in every twist and turn. Truth be told, that is mostly down to her and her own dancing skills. She can see raw talent in those just falling short, she can predict the shortcomings of the less than great and she can further and improve the few that possess something grand. She's not going to be humble or modest about it, Brittany is damn good at what she does.

Can she really do this forever though? Live in a so-so apartment, often struggling to pay rent and meet deadlines. If she put her mind to something else, maybe Brittany would have more money? Is it worth it? Of course, her mind drifts to a raven beauty, who will eventually make enough money to buy a more than comfortable house. A large part of Brittany doubts that she'll ever truly commit to Santana, because the other woman is unable. They've danced for years – and not the kind that Brittany likes. Nothing has ever come of their tango's, only shuffles in the dark and ecstasy in the corner of an empty room.

As she sits alone in the front row, listening to people move out of the building, chatting about the production, Brittany searches out for her friends. She doesn't move, of course, being much too comfortable where she is. She spots Rachel, Finn and Jesse, to her utmost surprise, talking to the side of the stage. Rachel's face is bright with the success of the night, and Brittany suspects with the fact that the men are getting along.

"Brittany Pierce?" Hearing her name, she turns to meet the voice. Confusion clouds her thoughts.

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay?" She surveys the woman quite blatantly, taking in her obvious Asian roots, long and silky black hair as well as her dark clothes. Brittany is less than impressed with the girls unflattering clothes and the manner in which they swallow her whole, but she doesn't reflect it because she believes in being nice to people.

The woman smiles, quite oblivious to Brittany's critical gaze, "Great, actually. I was quite impressed with what you managed to do here, given there is so little choreography to be done. Before watching the show," she takes a seat, gesturing for the blonde to join her. She complies dumbly, staring at her as she waits for her to continue. "I recognised your name in the programme, but couldn't pinpoint where. Then I realised you were the star of The Academy a few years back before it went out of business. You were amazing," She says, her eyes bright. She fails to hold Brittany's gaze though, and her eyes flicker away almost instantaneously. Brittany frowns at this.

However, the frown is soon turned upside down, "Thanks! I loved working there, it was always so much fun and I was one of the better ones."

"I usually don't come to greet the potentials, but I simply had to with you. Have you ever heard of the Cohen Concert?"

She tilts her head, recalling having heard the name before. "I think so, but I'm not familiar with it."

"We tour around the world, putting on extraordinary shows showcasing dancing abilities from all genres. However, I'm lacking people in your area at the moment. I have plenty more details to discuss, of course, but would you be interested?" Before she can reply, the Asian ploughs on, "I'm Tina Cohen-Chang, by the way, and it's really nice to meet you."

They shake hands, but all Brittany can think about is the flashing neon lights.

* * *

A/N: Heeey.. so I know it's not he longest or quickest of updates, but it's gotta count for something, right? I'll try and update again asap because after I post this I'm going to try and write some more. Hopefully, I get somewhere. Writing hasn't been coming as easily lately!

Thank you for reading, and to those who have reviewed :) You make the story! Apologies for not replying to reviews of the last chapter, I got wrapped up in everything else and forgot. Unforgivable and will not happen again!

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, Friends or "Circus" By Ms. Britney Spears.

Much love,  
CN.


	17. The One No One Wants To See

Chapter Seventeen: The One No One Wants To See.

_XVII: Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned._

She's never been a typically optimistic person. She's logical, rational and precise; optimism gets pushed to the side in favour of cynicism. She has experienced too much disappointment to ever hope in an unrealistic fashion, to ever aspire beyond the realms of existence – but he makes her want to believe differently. For the first time in her life, a happiness sparks in her heart that makes her want to _dream _again.

Quinn had resigned herself to the advice column, she had concluded that she should stay where she could. His words inspire her to think differently, to want more; she's always been ambitious, but she lost it along the way. He brings it back. She thinks she loves him for it.

In essence, he's what she has always wanted. He's kind, he's loving, he's attentive and bright – but he's not what she's gone for in the past. They don't bicker constantly in a fiery battle, they don't get passionate over the last slice of bread, but she thinks maybe that is what everything is supposed to be. Fighting doesn't equal love, she reasons. They're still passionate – definitely still passionate. It's different though. With Sam, it's a quiet passion that strikes her soul with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Feeling out of her depth is not something she likes. Quinn is always in control, always knowing what's going to happen and how it will pan out exactly. Except now, she's relinquishing some of it. She's surrendering a morsel of this control to either him or a higher power, she's not sure. Quinn's only done that once in her life, and that didn't end so fantastically, so she's a little wary.

She's surprised by how much she likes it. If it shocks her friends, it astounds her because he's nothing she's ever looked for. He's a little more like Finn than her recent boyfriends, and she hasn't been with Finn since she was about sixteen. Maybe she had the right idea back then.

Sam reaches across the table and grabs her hand, asking if she's okay. Quinn smiles because he cares, because he's not afraid to show he cares. Nodding, she strokes his hand softly with her thumb and waits for him to continue his story. While she's listening intently, she can't help but notice his little idiosyncrasies as he speaks. The way his smile is sheepish, revealing the very slight dimples in his cheeks. How he holds his hands in front of him and squares his shoulders when flirting, his eyes eyeing her with unequivocal attention.

Despite how loved up she's feeling this evening, not even she expects the next words out of her mouth, effectively cutting him off, "I want you to meet Beth next weekend."

They tumble out quick and fast, thoughtless and reckless. She frowns immediately after, wondering where on earth the idea had decided to present itself. Quinn supposes that she has been contemplating these things lately; contemplating a long-term Sam and Quinn.

He gives her a smile, "Sure. I'd love to meet her…. She looks exactly like you. I wonder if she talks half as much."

The joke earns him a laugh, "Oh, count yourself lucky then, she doesn't talk half as much. The girl is painfully shy so you may need to win her over."

"How hard can it be?" He says undauntedly, "I won you over!"

Quinn pushes her food around her plate, "Yeah, I didn't make it easy, did I?"

"Where's the fun in easy?" He grins, and instantly her disposition is brightened. The restaurant is bursting with chatter, laughs and even the occasional argument, but here in their little booth, Quinn can't find it in her to care what else is going on. They're having the romantic meal they've been putting off for weeks for whatever reasons, and she is enjoying immensely.

Sure, his celebrity impressions are less than stellar, his jokes are downright embarrassing and his nerdy references lose her, but she takes all that on board because she's not so perfect herself.

"You know… I've never been this infatuated with someone before."

She nods, because infatuation is the most accurate word. After a beat, she whispers intimately, "Me too." Something niggles at her, Sam stares at her for a few seconds, and then it's like nothing ever happened. Except the niggling.

She wishes it would disappear.

* * *

The night feels like every other in many ways, for they're all still the same people, with the same habits joking over the same occurrences. However, tonight has a certain buzz; there's an atmosphere that he hasn't felt in quite some time. No doubt, it's been there before – _excitement. _Anticipation, but who knows for what? There's a feeling of expectancy, like something will change the world tonight, but everyone knows that in reality things will remain the same.

Except this time, he doesn't want things to remain the same. Finn's often been compared – by Quinn and Rachel, both avid (nerds) fans – to Ron Weasley from Harry Potter; he's oblivious, slow to the mark at times and often has the emotional range of a teaspoon. He generally has several settings: sad, angry, confused and happy. Usually, a feeling will fall into these categories. However, despite all these apparent characteristics Finn possesses, he has taken some serious time during the running of the show to _think._ Sure, Puck had mocked him relentlessly for gazing out the apartment window with a perfectly acute pensive expression for a solid two hours, but it had been worth it.

Why, one asks? The answer is quite simple: Finn knows. He _knows._

He's finally ready to admit to himself what he has been denying for so long, and it's liberating. There's a new fresh zing in his step, a sparkle in his eyes. He berates himself for not realising sooner, really. Him hating Jesse, wanting to impress Rachel, wanting to save her and make her happy… It makes so much sense.

Finn values their friendship immensely, more than anyone else's. Simple.

He glances around the crammed room, wondering where all of his friends are. They're all just having drinks backstage now that the audience has gone home – there's a cast party later at a nearby club, but Finn isn't thinking that far ahead yet. He's been congratulated by near everyone since the end, and to be honest, he's proud of himself. Like he hasn't been in a long time. Even so, it's not enough to make him consider show business again.

He does much wandering, admiring the bouquets of flowers at each mirror, the flowers dotting the package brightly and loudly. The hardwood floors seem easier to manoeuvre on now, compared to his first rehearsal when he fell flat on his face. The black walls don't seem as daunting as before; they're almost comforting, in their plain nature. Continuing onto the door off of the stage so he can find his friends in the seating area, he tries to assess whether he's upset it's all ended or not.

Finn doesn't know. He doesn't have much time to contemplate it either, because the gaggle of loudmouths he calls friends are situated at the back of the theatre, gazing up at the stage in all its empty glory. He takes a minute to observe them, as he so often does silently. People underestimate his observations – after all, he's oblivious to everything, right?

Santana is gesturing wildly to the stage while chattering to Kurt, Blaine and Sam, putting passion into everything as she always does. There's a rather interesting-looking conversation between Brittany and an Asian, gothic woman on the far left while Mike, Rachel, Quinn and Jesse sit in the chairs in front of the others. Mike and Rachel appear cosy, discussing something closely, but chuckling and giggling all the while. Quinn, to his chagrin, nudges Jesse as he says something presumably insulting and Finn resigns himself to the man's presence.

There are actors, family, friends and many others scattered around his friends, but he pays them no heed. He's spoken to enough of them at this point.

Champagne has been popped and is being passed around, Finn takes a glass gladly. He sits himself down in between Mike and Quinn, waiting for either to acknowledge him. Quinn does so first, her perfectly polished teeth gazing at him from a smile, "Hey you, ready for the celebrations?"

Finn nods eagerly, "Damn straight. I can't wait to let loose!"

"You weren't bad, Finn, I must say," Jesse enters the conversation pompously. Finn manages to retain his temper, and begins to reply politely, when the curly-haired demon continues. "For an amateur, at least."

"I thought he was brilliant," Quinn says, giving him an encouraging wink. She leans forward then to call Rachel, "How do you think Finn did, Rach? Exceed expectations?"

"Of course!" Her reply is immediate. He doesn't remember her ever looking so radiantly happy; her hair is thrown into a somehow elegantly messy bun, her legs are covered by a pair of tight black leggings and a long, white top just barely snatches the glimpse of her bum away. Most noticeably though, is her eyes; they're glowing with joy.

He realises that he'd do anything to put that smile there – and that's not a regular thought between friends.

Stuttering with this revelation, he can't reply. Lucky for him, Rachel has an endless supply of words, and an endearing ignorance of when she is talking too much. "Although, I always expected him to be wonderful. He shone brightly in high school, there's absolutely no reason he wouldn't do the same now. Finn never lets anyone down." She adds the ending on with a sad sort of smile, confusing him. Perhaps it's a nostalgic smile – he can't tell.

It doesn't matter either way, because the conversation moves swiftly along. Jesse and Rachel leave to put on some music, Quinn engages Mike in an argument about marriage which causes Finn to promptly find new partners to speak with. As per usual, he floats between different people; insults fly with Santana, gossip is given from Kurt and Puck once again badgers him about Rachel. The evening turns to night rapidly, and he knows there's no way they'll make it to the club. Everyone has drunk a fair bit now, but it's still early.

On his way to the bathroom, his pathway is obscured by two figures. He mentally groans. "Hey Mom, Burt. How you guys doing? You're still here?"

The older man claps him on the back, "Of course! We wanted to catch up with you kids. This nice man then began talking to us about you, and the musical in general."

His mom helpfully adds, "He was in a wheelchair, bless him. Where's Kurt, honey? I want to say goodbye to him… you know, it's been so long since you two took a trip to Lima. Will you be home for Christmas this year?"

Fin awkwardly scratches the back of his head, "Um, I don't think so, Mom. I usually hang with my friends.."

She nods, but doesn't say much. Burt smiles widely upon spotting his son, "Kurt's over there with someone. I need some advice on an anniversary present," He whispers loudly to Finn, winking.

Carole, Finn's mother, smiles up at the man, but the sadness hasn't gone. Finn hates this guilty feeling, especially when it concerns the woman he thinks he loves most in the world. His mother has been everything to him for most of his life, since she only met Burt when he was in high school. Internet dating provided a new partner for his mother, one who was loving and kind and never let her down; he loved Burt for that. Burt also had a son, Kurt, who Finn had initially clashed with due to the sexual orientation differences. (Kurt fancied him.)

He always said his mother taught him how to be a man, even without one around. It makes him feel like a tool to let her down like this.

"Okay, I'll come visit you guys soon." He and Burt exchange a small hug before he comes to his Mom. "Sorry, Mom."

"Don't be silly, it's fine, Finn. Just don't forget to come visit me every now and again, okay? I'm beginning to forget your face!" She gives him a warm smile that makes the world right again, and he bids them goodbye after more hugs and well wishes.

He tells himself the night can only get better from here.

Upon seeing Jesse and Rachel locked in a tight, very _un_**friend**ly embrace around the next corner, Finn realises that the cosmos punish for such foolish statements.

* * *

"Oh, come on. There is no point in going to a Katy Perry concert unless you're going to _embrace_ the crazy,"

"I don't know, Kurt, I'm pretty content in dancing around and belting out the tunes," Blaine smiles, his stance mirroring Kurts as they lean on the back wall of the theatre. However, unlike Kurt, he is calm, relaxed and poised while the other boy is full of energy, buzzed and gesturing dramatically every few moments. Not to mention he keeps speaking to Blaine in French, which he wouldn't mind if he could understand it.

Kurt shakes his head at him sadly, as if he's a lost case, "Someday, you're going to come to her concert with me and ditch the bowtie and three-quarter length trousers for some crazy."

The statement makes Blaine laugh outright, earning a small smirk from the other man. Kurt forces himself to glance away, attempting to appear uninterested in this, when in reality it's all he can do to prevent himself from staring at Blaine's mouth. He studiously seeks out someone to keep them company – and sees Finn heading towards them - because he's not sure of how much longer he can contain he thoughts – or feelings, on this matter.

"We'll see about that," Kurt's head whips around to look at the other man, so quickly that a bout of pain shoots up his back and neck, but Blaine only smiles. Kurt's heart rate only returns to (drunken) normal when he realises his response was to the Katy Perry joke, rather than reading Kurt's mind. Thank god for small miracles; the lack of mind-reading.

Why can't Blaine just be less… less…. _Charming. Gorgeous. Lovely. Clever. Funny._ Why can't he not be Blaine? Kurt groans, wondering why he's such a masochist. It's always the straight ones, isn't it? Sebastian, his friend from college, constantly reiterates this statement but it doesn't mean much. It doesn't change anything, or make him feel better, or even provide some sort of resolve to change. Kurt likes Blaine (as more than a friend) and no matter how he tries to convince himself otherwise, he fears it's always going to be true… at least until Kurt finds some other straight guy to agonize over.

His eyes glance back to Blaine's fearfully, but he should have known better. As usual, the charmer's eyes are wide and friendly, offering a solace from the chaos around him. The smile on Blaine's face is small – almost secretive – and may just have a hint of flirtation playing.

Maybe Blaine's not straight, Kurt's drunken mind tells him gaily. Maybe he's just in the closet, and needs a big, strong man to help him out – no, wait, scratch that. A confident, skinny and flamboyant man to help him out. Kurt's eyes widen to himself; _that sounds like him. _He should tell Blaine how he feels, it is only right. He deserves to know so that he can tell Kurt he's gay, so that he can finally open up to someone and that someone would cherish their secret for whatever length of time is required.

Blaine needs to know. Kurt needs to tell him.

Resolve made up, Kurt leans his shoulder against the wall, drawing whatever support he can from it. Opening his mouth, he hesitates and calculates his words, "Blaine, I—I have something to tell you."

"Sure Kurt, you can tell me anything," He smiles, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Blaine frowns soon after, "Is everything okay?"

Forcing a grin, "Everything's great. I just… I just wanted to tell you that you are one of my best friends, even though we've known each other for such a short amount of time." The wondrous, gleaming smile appears on his friends (love's) face again, encouraging Kurt more than anything else, "You're kind, open, friendly, charming – not to mention gorgeous," he hitches over these words, "A—and I … I really like you, Blaine."

"Wow, thanks Kurt. I really like you, too." The second of light-hearted giddiness and sheer delight is ruined when Kurt realises Blaine thinks he means as a friend.

Raising his eyebrows, Kurt emphasises, "No, Blaine, I really _like _you."

He falls back against the wall, eyes still locked with Kurts. It isn't warmth and friendliness exuding from the brown orbs anymore though; it's shock with maybe a hint of embarrassment and fear. His body language tells the tale as he retreats from Kurt, drawing back all touches and mirroring. His mouth begins to open and close, closely resembling a fish, but no words emit.

His heart is slowly shrivelling up, alcohol dissipating at an alarming rate, leaving him with a dull pounding in his ears that startles him into action again. Kurt turns to move, only to find Finn behind him. Completely oblivious, the boys face is thunderous and his eyes reflect those of a madman.

Throwing a look to his brother, Finn utters the words, "I'm leaving." So low that he could swear he didn't hear him.

Abandoning his own problems – mainly Blaine still looking troubled – Kurt tries to engage Finn, "What happened? Is something wrong?"

_Everything. _Kurt immediately answers himself.

Finn gives him another answer, one that doesn't ring half as true, "Nothing. Let's go."

"Maybe I don't want to leave." Kurt shoots back, not willing to play this guess-the-mood game with Finn. He's played enough times to know that it never ends well, and his mood is exactly what you think at first. He's not exactly an enigma. Every thought Finn has is usually splayed out on his face, unlike many of their friends.

"Fine. I'll find another _brother _to help me. Oh, wait.." He's bitter. Kurt suddenly has a strong desire to leave with Finn, perhaps it's because Blaine isn't meeting his eyes and has yet to say a word, so he sighs and pulls Finn back as he's about to storm off.

"Okay, I'll come with you. Want to at least give me a clue as to what's wrong?"

This answer is a lot more honest than the last, and he can tell by the way Finn's shoulders sag just an inch, "Did you hear Rachel and Jesse are getting together?"

His mouth forms a delicate 'o' while the only coherent thought running through Kurt's mind is: _Oh, shit._

* * *

He doesn't know why he's so angry. Surely, he should have expected something like this? Surely he knew what Blaine's response would be? With a hasty glance to his right, Kurt wonders if Finn is feeling the same conflicting emotions. Minus one large, irrevocable and altering fact: Finn didn't spill his guts to the object of his desire.

Anger heats inside of him naturally, after all, what other emotion would be so safe? He stops just short of the car, wondering how on earth they're going to get home. They can't take the car they share – both of them have had a few drinks, and how was everyone else going to make it home? Finn doesn't seem to possess the same train of thought however, as he throws open the door with impetuosity only seen in dramatic exits at the movies.

Banishing his own troubled thoughts, Kurt pokes his head in through the door of the passenger seat, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm not drunk." Finn tells him decidedly, hands on the steering wheel, waiting for Kurt to climb in.

He sighs, "You may not be drunk, but you're sure as hell over the limit. Keys." It's a demand, one that Finn is mildly offended by.

"I'm not stupid, Kurt. I'm not over the limit." There's a small silence in which they assess each other. Kurt is hesitant, mulling over his thoughts on the subject, while Finn is rapidly losing patience and any understanding he had. "I'm going. You can stay here and make a fool of yourself, or get in and leave this dump behind."

It stings; Kurt won't lie. The jab hits him where Finn intends, and works exactly the same way, having the effect of getting Kurt to enter the car. Swallowing thickly, Kurt closes his eyes and leans his head back; he's resigned to a bumpy ride home filled with the wondrous additions of tension and awkwardness.

He just wants to turn _off. _To leave behind the dregs of this night and stop thinking about how he's ruined the greatest new friendship he has – not that Kurt has made that many friends lately. His campaign seems to scare people off if anything. The vote is coming up at the end of December, which excites and scares Kurt all the same.

"I'm sorry." Kurt is so startled by the admission, that it takes him several seconds to realise what Finn said.

Blinking slowly; "Um, … yeah, it's fine. I get it. You and Rachel, you were kind of a plan."

"Right?!" Finn questions, turning impulsively to look at Kurt. His eyes are wide, eager for confirmation of his grief. "I thought we were always going to come back together." He bangs his fist rather lightly against the steering wheel, cursing himself, "this is pathetic."

"You know, she's not marrying the guy. Ross married, like, three people before eventually going back to Rachel."

"Really, Kurt? A Friends reference?"

He shrugs, "The time calls for it."

The next words are hesitant. He licks his lips several times before eventually saying it, not to mention his eyes flickering between Kurt and the road rapidly, "So… so we're Ross and Rachel?"

Even if Kurt isn't sure he fully believes _they _are the Ross/Rachel in their group of friends, in that moment, he wants nothing more than to take away Finn's anxiety. It makes him feel better about himself, however selfish that may be. So, he smiles and replies softly, "You're the Ross and Rachel."

Finn looks at him in relief, and Kurt wonders why the older man is putting so much weight to his words. He supposes any consolation is welcome; he wouldn't know. He's sure Finn is going to thank him, and show how grateful he is by asking Kurt about his horrible night and offer words of comfort.

Timing was never Finn's strong suit though. He turns to Kurt, eyes filled with a mirage of feelings, when a deafening crash invades their senses and knocks them out of their consciousness. Kurt's world turns black, pain ripping through his form until it takes over.

The nearby harrowing screams do nothing to wake his consciousness.

* * *

A/N: Soo... Hi. I know, it's probably a surprise to find out I'm not dead. I do intend to finish this story. I'm shortening it considerably so that I will definitely finish it... Being honest, it's becoming more difficult with the S4 of Glee.

But I must persevere! I'm sorry for the lack of updates thus far, but hopefully I can improve on that from now on.. I'm very eager to wrap this and my other Glee WIP up. Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Friends or "Try" by P!nk.

Bit of a whirlwind chapter, a lot going on here, so please leave a review and I will reply asap :)

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it,

CN.


	18. The One At Christmas Eve

Chapter Eighteen: The One at Christmas Eve

_XVIII: Well in this life, you must find something to live for because when the darkness comes a callin', you'll go back to where you were before._

She thinks it's the first time they've all been so quiet. If not the first, it's the starkest in her memory, but that could also be due to the stifling discomfort, the painful waiting and the obnoxious ticking of the clock in the corner. Rachel can scarcely believe a night of such merriment could end in such unfathomable disaster; it makes her pause and reflect.

Is this what life amounts to? One crashing high and low after another, some colliding to create the ultimate scenario, others evening out to a daily occurrence.

This isn't a daily occurrence.

She leans her head on Blaine's shoulder, vaguely aware of his uneven breathing and shaking hands. Strangely, Rachel is having no such reaction. Part of her wonders if this is what being 'in shock' is, because she can't feel anything. Her mind, for once in her life, is blank. Perhaps she's absently training her mind to be so void of thought though; an entirely plausible scenario.

"They're not dead, you know," Santana speaks to all of them, standing up, "They're not dead, so why are we acting like they are? It's Kurt and Finn – _Furt – _you just know they're going to be fine. They wouldn't leave us that easily… I think it'll take many more years of hard work for that."

Rachel appreciates the humour, and sends the Latina a smile, but not everyone is feeling the same way about the situation. Blaine shoots her a surprisingly scathing look, "I think the jokes are a bit too soon. You don't actually know if they're alive or dead – making jokes about wanting them to be is disgusting."

There's a loud sniff in the room, and it's only at this point that Rachel see's Brittany is crying. It takes all of two minutes before Santana rushes over to her, wrapping arms around the woman delicately and whispering soothing words in her ear. The fight with Blaine is abandoned. Rachel wonders if Brittany is more cunning than she lets on; the timing of that sniffle is suspicious.

Quinn and Puck return with refreshments for the adults in the room. She and Blaine accept theirs with a quiet murmur of gratitude – the only ones to make such an effort. Santana and Brittany don't even take theirs, leaving Puck to place it down beside them with a sigh. Mike decides against drinking his and returns to the riveting activity of watching the door.

They sit down next to each other after passing the drinks out, easily sliding into familiar positions of ease; his arm around her frame, drawing her close and providing them both with the comfort craved. She wonders how they ever drifted so far from what they were, whilst still remaining as close and acquainted with the movements of their relationship. It saddens her for some inexplicable reason. If Quinn and Puck can't fix 'It' …

Her thoughts are halted as the doctor enters the room, causing everyone to jump in surprise. Leaning forward in anticipation, she has to restrain herself from chanting '_please be okay'_ aloud like she is in her head. The doctor is young, still possessing kind eyes and a sensitive nature to these cases. He glances around at them all, seeming taken aback by the number of them, but ploughs on, "Hi, you must be the friends and family of Kurt Hummel and Finn Hudson."

"That's us," Quinn replies immediately for them, eager to hear the diagnosis.

"Well, I have some very _good _news, which is great as I so rarely get to give it. Besides some minor bone fractures and bruising, both Mr. Hummel and Hudson remain relatively unscathed. It's nothing short of a miracle."

She forgot words could invoke these kind of feelings in you; euphoria, relief, sheer delight. They're all hugging and cheering when his next words catch their attention, "However, I am concerned by the alcohol in Mr. Hudsons system upon the collision of the cars. Luckily, I don't think he was over the limit but, alarmingly, close to it. It will be up to the victim if she wants to press charges or not. She has a broken leg, but miraculously, is otherwise fine."

"Are we allowed to know her name, sir?"

"Tina Cohen-Chang. I'm sure she'll contact your friends shortly. For now, you can make visits to them in groups of _two _and no more."

* * *

**_24th December._**

It's been ten days since they all had that _moment. _They've all talked about it and agreed upon the realness of it; a moment in which there is a realisation of life, fragility and overwhelming gratitude. It causes all of her friends to react in different ways, perhaps telling tales of their personalities and experiences, but in the end, it means that they're not doing Christmas like they used to. Having had an early Christmas dinner last night, exchanged presents, some left the city and some remained.

Rachel is one of the ones who decided to leave. It's been a while since she saw her fathers, and only now can she feel the full weight of the guilt. Take care of your parents while you can, because they won't be around forever – right? She's not alone in this sentiment. Brittany and Finn – following Kurt's assurance that he would be fine, and an insistence he see their parents – went home yesterday, while Rachel is driving to Ohio later tonight.

Kurt is still in hospital, and rather down about it. They all visit regularly, trying to keep his spirits up, but she doesn't blame him for feeling frustrated and dejected. Christmas is meant for family, not a hospital bed. She comes to the thought that many people face that scenario every year, some more than once. It makes her feel a little sick.

She hears the front door open, but before she calls out to discover the identity of the newcomer, she hears loud giggling and laughter. Rachel smiles to herself as she continues to curl the ends of her hair slightly; Quinn and Puck are back with Beth. Since they were unable to take her the previous weekend because of Kurt, Shelby allowed her to stay last night. Beth's going home in an hour or so, but Rachel knows that every second of time spent with that girl is priceless to her biological parents. She thinks the group often underestimate the power of what they went through giving her up – and finding her again.

Rachel listens closely as Beth devises a ludicrous game for them to play; she has an extraordinarily overactive imagination.

To be honest, she had been glad for the peace during the day. Santana and Brittany's goodbye this morning and taken it out of her; both their sexual and tearful goodbye and been heard loud and clear by a disgruntled Rachel. She worries about her lack of reaction towards their relationship, but figures that it's because they all knew secretly the whole time. Their little group enjoyed pretending.

She finishes her make-up and pouts prettily in the mirror, completely satisfied with the reflection. It took a lot of years before she could come close to feeling that. She's changed so much since her Lima days, but she supposes that so has Puck and Quinn. Finn, too – even if he didn't spend all his school years there.

Rachel grabs her purse and heads out to the kitchen and lounge area. Immediately upon seeing her, Beth launches herself into her arms, singing a Christmas tune familiar to everyone merrily. "Rachel! You look really pretty. Where are you going?"

"Rachel has a daaate," Quinn sings, coming to put her arms around Beth from behind. At ten years old, the girl is quite tall and her biological mother can comfortably put her arms around her shoulders.

Puck stands from the couch, looking like had had received a beating from one of the cushions, "Hot date, Rach? How is this the first I heard of it?"

She struggles to cool the flames she feels in her cheeks, "Because you tell everyone everything, Noah."

He laughs outright, "Someone's tetchy! Come on Princess, give me a smile, it's Christmas!" He flashes her a wide smile, which she can't help but return. Rachel _loves _Christmas and it would be a crime not to get on board.

"Beautiful," He says theatrically. Puck comes to stand beside her then and throws his arm around her, "Make sure he really wines and dines you tonight, you deserve it."

Rachel is touched by the sentiment, and really smiles at him this time, "Thank you, Noah. But in the name of equality, it shall be wining and dining together, not him wining and dining me."

He rolls his eyes, pulling away and telling Quinn, "I give up."

"You go, Rachel. Girl power!"

She meets Beth's hi-five, then eyes Quinn, "Have you got her brainwashed by the 90s?"

"Shut up and go." She replies jokingly, but gestures to the door. Rachel hugs them all tightly, wishing them a Merry Christmas. She tries not to get tearful, but can't help it – emotion has always been something Rachel never lacked. Quinn has sympathy written all over her face, causing her to pull Rachel in for another hug.

After a few loving and comforting words, Rachel is in date mode and ready for Christmas.

* * *

Like the majority of the world, he hates hospitals. He's not fond of falling into cliché's, but there's no way around this one. He can't stand them, and _un_like a lot of people, he has no real reason for this. There's no childhood trauma, no gravely sick relative or untimely death; he just hates hospitals. They represent sickness, death, unhappiness. Rachel argues with him on these points (of course she does) and maintains that it also represents life, beginnings, hope and joy. She likes to talk about the birth of new lives, while he seems to focus on the exit of old life. That says it all, really. It makes him smile just a small bit, because he and Rachel would seriously never, ever work.

Regardless, he tries to channel some of Rachel as he waits for Kurt's parents to leave. Finn left yesterday, and he volunteered to see Kurt until visiting hours ended. After all, no one likes being alone on Christmas Eve. Mike is sure that there's no one at home, anyway. Puck was out with Quinn for the day and probably still is, Santana is in hibernation and Rachel's going home.

Seeing Carole exit the room, Mike gives her a polite nod. Unfortunately, Carole stops next to him to talk – which, normally, Mike would have no problem with, but being here makes him on edge. The discomfort he feels is pressing heavily upon his chest.

"Mike, dear, how are you?" She asks, leaning forward to hug him. "It's so good of you to stay with Kurt this evening."

"He's one of my best friends, there's nothing I'd rather be doing tonight," he tells her, being semi-sincere. In the world of realism and actual possibilities, this is what he'd rather do tonight.

She gives him a sad smile, "We're just sorry we have to leave, but our families have come to Lima for the holidays and –"

"Kurt understands, Mrs. Hummel."

"Carole, Mike, you should know that by now."

Burt finally leaves the room, pulling his hat down over his head as he does so. It appears as though it's been twisted over a couple times, leaving Mike to wonder unnervingly the kind of emotions running in the room.

"Mike, it's good to see you. Thanks for staying with my boy."

"Like I said to Carole, it's my pleasure."

They both bid goodbye then, wishing him the merriest of Christmases before leaving Mike to the largely empty corridor and relatively quiet area. Kurt's sharing with one other person, but they've been unconscious for a while now, so it's basically like his own room.

He inhales deeply, then takes swift steps into his friends room. As soon as he sees the expression on Kurt's face, he leaves his discomfort at the door. They're just friends talking, as they would on any other day in any other place.

"So, the 'rents have been awful with my gossip quota, what have _you _got me?"

Mike laughs, having expected this, "Well, Rachel's on a date as we speak –"

"Never!" He gasps, overdoing it for comical purposes.

"I know. It looks like the Finn and Rachel saga has finally seen its end.."

"I wouldn't say that." Kurt mumbles lowly, seeming serious now. "Finn was pretty upset with the whole Jesse situation. It… It's one of the reasons we crashed."

It's the first Kurt or Finn has spoken about the circumstances surrounding it. Mike doesn't know what to say, but wants him to continue and thinks nodding is the best way to encourage that. Kurt shrugs, "Whatever, they can deal with themselves. We're all big boys and girls here."

Just as Mike is about to offer a consoling word and question, there's an exclamation from the door, "Dudes! I have been looking everywhere for this damned room. Did you get moved, Maria?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, "No, you just forgot. Maybe I should draw a map?"

"Don't need no map," Puck replies, puffing out his chest.

"You know that means you _do _need a map?" Mike asks him, pulling up another chair beside Kurt's bed. Puck takes it, frowning all the while.

After another moment, he shakes his head, "Whatever. Here, I brought you that shit you asked for."

Kurt gives him a critical eye, and replies with distaste, "I didn't ask for any shit."

Familiar with Kurt and Puck's interactions, Mike zones out for a minute as he studies how bad Kurt looks. He's sitting up in the bed, the dowdy, salmon coloured blanket bunched at his waist and his legs appear to be crossed. His skin is still drastically pale, almost the colour of the white metal of the bed, which makes his dark bruises and cuts all the more shocking. There's a 'nasty stitches scenario' – as Puck puts it – across the left side of his forehead. Kurt's right arm sits stiffly in a glaring bright green cast, a ghastly colour to Mike.

"Right, Mike?" Kurt asks pleadingly.

There's only one way Mike can answer, especially since he has no clue what it's about, "Sure."

His face lights up, "Oh, thank you! Here," He shoves a white polar bear teddy, some Hersheys chocolates and a mixed flower bouquet into his waiting hands. Mike looks at him in puzzlement, hoping that he'll explain this without prompt. It's obvious Mike has no idea what's going on.

Puck saves him. "Why can't I bring the gifts to that chick? You know I'll bring the charm,"

"And the sexual harassment lawsuit," Kurt replies, barely sparing him a glance. "She's five doors up from here on the right, and her name is Tina Cohen-Chang. Can you give her those and this card? Please assure her it's not a bribe, but just something to try ease my crushing guilt."

"Why can't Puck do it?" His tone is weak even to his own ears. "He even wants to!"

"Besides the obvious reasons, you and her are probably from the same place and what if she doesn't speak English? I did notice your last names have a common component." Mike almost rolls his eyes at how racist that could be perceived as.

"The whole name, maybe?" Puck adds, deadpan.

Kurt ignores him, not surprisingly, "Please, Mike? I _need _you to do this for me. Please?"

Unable to refuse a battered and bruised friend, Mike grumbles, "Where's her room again?"

* * *

Hey All! I'm terribly sorry about the unbelievable wait for this chapter. I'm struggling with finding inspiration lately. Glee annoys the hell out of me lately, mainly whenever Marley is on screen. But, hey, I'll persevere for the original Glee cast and the good new characters.

Thank you very much to "tonotfeelyourrain" for the amazing reviews, it's partly the reason this chapter is here! I have half of the next chapter done, including the Mike/Tina scene ;) So, hopefully, it won't be too long. HOWEVER, I have exams now till mid-May so it could be a while. I'll also be updating LWGYH soon and perhaps a one-shot.

Thank you for reading, and I would be ever grateful for a review! I don't own Glee or "As it Seems" by Lily Kershaw btw, which is such a great song. Also don't own Friends. Bet you thought you nearly got me on that one...

Quick still ahead in the polls at the moment, but Quam seems to be inching in. Finchel also the most popular choice, rather than St. Berry...

Until next time,

CN.


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